Pretty Little Liar

IMG_0489I am teaching my daughter to lie and she’s becoming quite good at it.

Just so we’re clear, I didn’t set out to make her into a liar, but that’s exactly what she’s become.

It started out innocently enough.

In Wegmans, Little Lady asks, “Mom, can I have a doughnut?”

Me, “Only if you don’t tell your brothers.”

She, later, tells her brothers.  In fact, not only does she tell them, but it was almost as if she waited all day for the moment they walked through the door to say, “Boys, I had a doughnut, today.”

Chaos ensues. Cries of no fair.  Second Son is ready to committ haricari over that fact that he missed out on sugar.

I am not happy.

We’re in Wegmans, again, Little Lady asks, “Can I have a doughnut.”

Me, “No.”

Her,  whining, “Why not? Please, let me have a doughnut!!”

I explain to her that there was no way I am going to buy her doughnut, after what happened last time. She tortures me for the rest of the shopping trip.

Next, Little Lady and I are running errands.  We stop for lunch.  Little Lady asks, “Can I have a cookie?”

I say as long as you don’t tell your brothers.  This time, she keeps her promise.

Another day, another treat.  She has become savvy.  “Boys,” she says as they walk through the door, “I have a secret.”

They desperately want to know what the secret is.  She looks at me coyly, ignoring my dirty looks, and makes up some ridiculous story that has nothing to do with the fact that she had some sort of treat.

She later whispers to me, “See, I didn’t tell them.”

I am proud.

Another day, another secret.  I buy the boys Minecraft shirts.  I want to surprise them.  Of course, because we are always together, Little Lady is with me.  I ask her to keep it a secret.  She does, everyday, until they arrive, employing her boys I have a secret routine, revealing nothing to them, while looking knowingly at me.

The other day, my mom is here. Little Lady’s friend is over and my mom finds them playing her in brothers room (not the first time), cars out everywhere, stuffed animals on the bed.

My mom says, “I don’t think your brother would want you in his room.”

Little Lady says, “Don’t worry, he won’t know we were here.”

My mom tells me this story, when I get home, and it slowly starts to dawn on me, I have inadvertently created a pretty little liar.


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