The Lie

 I cannot tell a lie

A few days ago I walked into the living room to find dried beans scattered all over the floor.  I obviously knew where they had come from (the candle vase on the dining room table) and how they had gotten there (one very blond, very spirited little kid).  But I figured I would ask the inevitable and try to make a teachable moment out of it.  I figured our conversation would go something like this:

Me: "How did these beans get here?"

Jackson: "I put them there" (he is extremely and utterly...well...honest.)

Me: "Where do the beans go?"

Jackson:  "In the dining room"

Me:  "Ok, let's put them back there"

Jackson "Ok Mommy"

I figured wrong.  The true version of this story was ironically a lie.  An, in your face, flat out, bold faced, LIE.  The real conversation:

Me: "How did these beans get here?"

Jackson: "I don't know"

Me: "Well, how do you think they got there?"

Jackson:  "Zoe put them there"

Me:  Shocked silence/stifling laughs

Jackson:  Big smile

Me:  "Why did YOU put them there?"

Jackson:  "Because, I put them there, but I don't want to clean them up"

I guess that answered that!  In the end we cleaned up the beans together and went on with our day.  Still, even I as write this, I am laughing, but at the same time I am so not laughing.  Parents out there, please, PLEASE tell me... How do you deal with lying?  Even the cutest, whitest lies?  I didn't think I would have to deal with this until at least three.

On second thought, I can...