I locked myself in my bedroom a few days ago to feed the baby uninterrupted. Piper was napping and I instructed the kids to have quiet time on the couch. While feeding Milo, I heard some rustling about in the kitchen.
By the time I got out there to investigate, Avery and Tucker were perched nicely on the couch, reading their books like nothing had happened. All looked normal, except for the black streaks resembling Oreo cookie around their mouths.
I stared at Avery. She stared at me, then nervously went back to her book. I turned my gaze to Tucker. He grinned at me, showing me all his teeth, even the back ones. His teeth were speckled with black specks, also resembling Oreo cookie.
"Avery. Tucker. I can see everything. I have eyes in the back of my head. Even when I'm not around, I know what you are doing." I said and went back into the room to finish feeding Milo.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at my bedroom door.
"Mom? Can you see me?" Avery asked.
"Yes, I can. I can see everything, remember?" I said, chuckling softly to myself.
As I went about the kitchen that evening preparing supper, Avery tested out my super-eyes.
From upstairs she yelled, "Mom? What am I doing? Can you see me?"
From the bathroom, "Mom! Look at me! Isn't this funny?"
Yesterday, I instructed them to clean up their room before supper. Avery came down about ten minutes later, huffing and puffing, telling me how exhausted she was from cleaning so much.
"Is your room all the way clean?" I asked.
"You can see it." she reminded me.
"Oh, yeah, that's right. Um." I shut my eyes. "What's that stuff under Tucker's bed?"
She groaned and sighed. "I'll go clean it up." she said.
We were at the checkout at Walmart and Avery asked to go play in the family fun center.
"No." I said. "I can't see you from here if you go in there."
"But I thought you can see everywhere?" she said.
"Uh, yes, um, well, we're almost done here so you won't have time." I said.
Last night, I brought Milo to the clinic and left the kids with Chet. While he was plugging away on his report writing for school, Avery came flying into the room and stopped right in front of him.
"Dad! Dad!" she said.
"What?!" he asked.
"Mom can see everything and she has eyes in the back of her head and even when she isn't here she can see everything and even when she's downstairs she can see upstairs and..." she said, her eyes as large as 747's, leaning forward with her arms stretched out behind her, emphasizing her point.
Chet was blown away. He never knew his wife had such powers.
So am I lying to her? Not really. I told her that I can see everything, but didn't mean it literally. She took it literally, so perhaps I'm withholding information by not correcting her. Regardless, she seems to be more well behaved these days. I can just picture her, about to push her brother off the couch, but stopping, looking around the room for my eyeballs to appear somewhere in the woodwork.
By the time I got out there to investigate, Avery and Tucker were perched nicely on the couch, reading their books like nothing had happened. All looked normal, except for the black streaks resembling Oreo cookie around their mouths.
I stared at Avery. She stared at me, then nervously went back to her book. I turned my gaze to Tucker. He grinned at me, showing me all his teeth, even the back ones. His teeth were speckled with black specks, also resembling Oreo cookie.
"Avery. Tucker. I can see everything. I have eyes in the back of my head. Even when I'm not around, I know what you are doing." I said and went back into the room to finish feeding Milo.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at my bedroom door.
"Mom? Can you see me?" Avery asked.
"Yes, I can. I can see everything, remember?" I said, chuckling softly to myself.
As I went about the kitchen that evening preparing supper, Avery tested out my super-eyes.
From upstairs she yelled, "Mom? What am I doing? Can you see me?"
From the bathroom, "Mom! Look at me! Isn't this funny?"
Yesterday, I instructed them to clean up their room before supper. Avery came down about ten minutes later, huffing and puffing, telling me how exhausted she was from cleaning so much.
"Is your room all the way clean?" I asked.
"You can see it." she reminded me.
"Oh, yeah, that's right. Um." I shut my eyes. "What's that stuff under Tucker's bed?"
She groaned and sighed. "I'll go clean it up." she said.
We were at the checkout at Walmart and Avery asked to go play in the family fun center.
"No." I said. "I can't see you from here if you go in there."
"But I thought you can see everywhere?" she said.
"Uh, yes, um, well, we're almost done here so you won't have time." I said.
Last night, I brought Milo to the clinic and left the kids with Chet. While he was plugging away on his report writing for school, Avery came flying into the room and stopped right in front of him.
"Dad! Dad!" she said.
"What?!" he asked.
"Mom can see everything and she has eyes in the back of her head and even when she isn't here she can see everything and even when she's downstairs she can see upstairs and..." she said, her eyes as large as 747's, leaning forward with her arms stretched out behind her, emphasizing her point.
Chet was blown away. He never knew his wife had such powers.
So am I lying to her? Not really. I told her that I can see everything, but didn't mean it literally. She took it literally, so perhaps I'm withholding information by not correcting her. Regardless, she seems to be more well behaved these days. I can just picture her, about to push her brother off the couch, but stopping, looking around the room for my eyeballs to appear somewhere in the woodwork.
it's not lying, it's "stretching the truth." one of the perks of being a mom.
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