The Bare Facts and Plenty of Lies

My four year old would be right at home in a nudist colony. Consequently, it is usually not an easy task to clothe him. As my runaway streaker sped past me for the third time and leapt onto the couch, I glared into his hazel eyes. With a stern voice I threatened, "Tell Gilbert. You WILL stop and put these underwear on or I will spank your bare butt." Without batting an eye, he replied, "I not a bear."

He may not be a bear but he is a habitual liar, much worse than the other kids were in their toddler years.

A couple weeks ago , I noticed the sheetrock on the corner of the hallway, near the stairs, had been chipped a bit with small pieces laying on the carpet. A few days ago, as I walked to the pantry, I noticed Tell quietly standing near the corner, which contained significantly less sheetrock than a few days before. His small fingers were intently peeling away tiny shards of material. "Are you the one doing this?" I asked, pointing at the corner and floor. With his long-lashed eyes looking directly into mine, voice brimming with innocence and fingers still whittling away at the sheetrock, he said, "No. It wath thomeone elth." What do you do with a kid like that?