Sometimes it’s funny how my kids resemble their sainted mother. Last night, as I tucked my daughter in, I found a spoon on her bed. We have a pretty strict no eating upstairs rule, so I asked her why it was there. “I don’t know,” she lied merrily.
“Of course you do,” I said.
“I guess someone broke in and forced me to eat a spoonful of Nutella,” she said.
“Oh, okay,” I answered. “You should’ve said so. That happens to me all the time.”
Then recently, I asked Dearest Son what he wanted to be when he grew up. “A nerd person,” he said.
I think my work here is done. ; )