Once a week, two smart and fun 12-year-old girls babysit my boys after school. These girls are babysitters-in-training and my house is boot camp. I usually leave a note with instructions such as, “Please make sure the boys do their chores, snacks are in the fridge, 1/2 hour of tv time is okay, I’ll be home by 6pm.”
A couple of weeks ago I forgot to leave a note so my 7-year-old, Eliot, took matters into his own hands:
My favorite part is “shooger” spelled like booger– that and the overall ingenuity.
I was a BIG liar as a kid. My first lie, at age 2, pinned responsibility for a poop I’d left on the back porch, on our chickens. Like most kids, I lied to get out of trouble. But as I got older my lies were less about escaping blame and more about experimenting with what made a lie more or less believable and what I could get people to believe.
In 7th grade I convinced my friend Breeze that our friend Angie went home everyday after school, sat in her front yard and ate bugs. Breeze didn’t believe me at first; Angie was not a girl you’d look at and think, I bet she eats bugs… or boogers… or paste. “I know,” I said, “I wouldn’t have believed it either if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes!” I went on to explain that an underground spring in Angie’s yard attracted an especially wide and, apparently, tasty variety of bugs. I kept going until I had Breeze… hook, line, and sinker. I left her there for a couple of hours and then came clean. It wasn’t about making Angie look like a bug-eating freak; it was about testing the limits of my bullshit artistry.
I’m still an amazing bullshit artist, but I only use my powers for good– never evil. I’m keeping an eye on Eliot to make sure he does the same.
P.S. 5-year-old Asa wanted to make his own contribution to this post. Here’s what he told me to write:
Foofoo feefee. Googoo googoo foofoo. Happy birthday! I’m turning 100 and I get 1000 gummy worms!