Mystery of the Missing Mints.

School drop-off this morning: With three little ones in the car (a runny-nosed Big boy supervising), I popped quickly into school to see our big girl to her classroom.

I got back to find a bottle of mints I'd left at my seat had been opened with almost half its contents gone. 

The big boy didn't see what had happened, but it was very likely one or both of the littlest ones had partaken of the forbidden fruit. One couldn't tell me, and the other wouldn't. Interrogation at the scene yielded mixed answers, shifty eyes and finally tears.

I hugged him, told him I love him, and we drove home. His innate drive to get out of trouble, his survival instinct, his ability to lie with a straight face had finally come to a head. We had to talk about it.

We had our first serious chat, one to one. Honesty is super important and I said that I want and need to be able to believe him when he tells me something. Yes means yes, no means no.

We started with a few simple questions to illustrate my point.

Are you a boy? Yes.

Did you sleep in your own bed last night? Yes. 

Is your name M? Yes.

And, gently... 

Did you open the bottle of sweets? Yes.

Did you eat the sweets? Yes. 

Me: Thank you for being honest. I love you. 

I gave him a big cuddle and said that he wasn't in trouble about the sweets because he was honest about it.

That was the end of the subject.

Tonight, at bedtime, he says, "I want you to believe me."

Children say the most interesting things at bedtime, and I sometimes think that's their mind unwinding and replaying the day's events/emotions just before bed.

Let's hope this little milestone has made enough of an impression to keep him on the straight and narrow path from now on. Right.

The one child of ours whose cheeky glint in his eyes says he's up to something even when he's not. Our older children are honest, to a fault sometimes, so this was certainly an eye opening experience.

I chuckle to myself, remembering the old chant, "liar, liar, pants on fire!"