Tree Poop and Dinner Deception

Tree Poop--The world of children is full of wonders. The best thing about it is hearing them explain those wonders in their own childish way. After work, the kids and I explored outside while dinner was cooking. We walked through a little tunnel in the line of bushes in front of our house that leads to a hill. Then we went down the hill to a tree with a dark blob of petrified moss near the roots on one side. That's when my son said, "Look, tree poop!" and my daughter repeated, "Wook, twee poop!" It was too much. Sometimes I wish I could explain the world that way. The kids are pretty good at it. Another favorite is, "The car tooted."

Dinner Deception--Our son is truly angelic in almost all circumstances. The only time he's a little stinker is at dinner. Why? Because he refuses to eat anything and makes up not only excuses but outright lies to get out of eating what he doesn't want to eat. He came a picky eater. As he got older, we were able to negotiate so that he would take some bites of what we wanted in exchange for bites of what he wanted. Then we required that he try everything. No matter how much we try to compromise, the battle won't end. Today I laid the guilt on pretty thick by analogizing his refusal to eat with my wife hypothetically throwing away a picture he worked all day to draw for her. He got it, but chose not to do anything about it. What really bothered us though was his dishonesty. He has been sick for a few days, his stomach hurting. Today he was fine but he used the same excuse, modified. "My tummy doesn't feel good. I'm too sick to eat the meat loaf, but I can eat the potatoes and broccoli." Mommy asked him whether he'd be able to eat anything if dinner was German pancakes. He said "yea." Brilliant. We reminded him how serious it was to tell the truth and that what makes us mad is not when he doesn't want to eat the food (we can work around that), but that he tells lies to get out of eating. Later tonight he apologized to my wife, telling her that lying doesn't feel good. I'm grateful that even when my lectures don't work (I'm not sure why), he is sensitive to that still, small voice inside that is teaching him right from wrong. Serious honesty offenders, however, will now be sentenced to bed without books. To the kids, it is as serious as the death penalty (at least they cry like it is).

*By the way, I did show my umbrella to everyone at the office, including the judge, made sure to remember what they said about it, and dutifully reported back to my son. He seemed pleased with that, but it obviously wasn't as big a deal as I thought it was yesterday.