No Secrets Here

It's no secret that there are no secrets in our house. It seems like someone's always telling on someone for something. B, in case you haven't guessed, never does anything wrong. He is quick to tell me, though, that it's usually O who's done it. Whatever it is. Lately O has been climbing out of his crib, pulling a stool over to the kitchen cabinet, and taking the cookies out. Then he leaves crumbs everywhere, and climbs back into his crib. OK, so maybe what we're lacking in secrets, we more than make up for in lies.

If B's not telling on O, then N is telling on B. That he hit her, kicked her, sat too close to her, or breathed on her. The nerve of that boy, breathing like that. Even our dog Bella gets more than her share of the blame. Usually it's when someone has tooted. Poor Bella. These kids better hope science never figures out a way to make dogs talk. She'll be singing like a canary.

Jimmy usually only gets blamed for the things he actually does, but unfortunately this includes what he does in the bathroom. B wants to make sure he gets it right, so he sits outside the bathroom door and asks Jimmy what he's doing first. "You poopin, dad?" Then he gives a play-by-play to whoever happens to be around. If you know us in real life, you should hope this is never you. Sometimes it's TMI,  and sometimes it's way beyond TMI. I'm thinking of instituting a "What happens in the bathroom stays in the bathroom" policy.

Jimmy got home late today and hadn't had time to get anything for me for Valentine's Day. Well, you know, he hadn't had time to get me anything today for Valentine's Day. We won't talk about yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that. (oh I'm kidding! I really don't expect anything for Valentine's Day, but I did hope he'd get me something so I had something to write about). In any case, he and N went on a stealth mission to the drug store and returned with a bag, with which they retreated to the living room. B followed. There was lots of whispering.

From the kitchen, I could only hear bits and pieces, like N telling B, "Shh!! Don't tell her!"
and B responding "I'm NOT!"
And N repeating, "DON'T TELL!"
and B responding, "N! Stop IT! I'm not gonna tell her it's a BEAR!"
And N chastising him with more "SSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
While I'm excitedly thinking, wait, did he say beer? Or bear?
And B responding with "I'm not telling her! Stop telling me! I'm not telling her that it's a BEAR! And I'm not telling her it's FLOWERS!"
Oh. I'm pretty sure he said bear.
N made a last ditch effort. "B! Be quiet! Don't tell!"
And B re-assured her once more "I'm NOT telling her that it's FLOWERS and a BEAR! Mom! I'm not telling you that you got flowers and a bear!"
Yup, definitely bear.

"B," I said, "Don't tell me what I got. I can't hear you. It's a surprise".
And then, because B is an incredibly thoughtful boy, he yelled much louder, "MOM! CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? I SAID I"M NOT TELLING YOU THAT YOU GOT FLOWERS AND A BEAR!!!"

Want to know what I got for Valentine's Day? I'd tell you, but it's a secret.

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