Actually, Caleb has a lying problem, and while he has yet to realize that he is a horrible liar, everybody else in our house is fully aware of this fact. This is due, in part, to several things.
1 - His eyes take on a blank stare and his voice gets quiet as he thinks of something (a lie perhaps?) to say. (This is my cue to start the cross-examination).
2 - His story starts changing. Like today, when he and our neighbor started arguing about the water bottle Caleb was holding. Caleb insisted it was his and that he found it on his bed in our house. Oh wait, I mean he found it on the rocking chair in the living room...er, under the rocking chair that is. Oops, I totally forgot, it was on the freezer in the garage, and then it rolled into the street. Yeah, that's the ticket.
3 - I'm not stupid. I've been through this with Isaiah before. I can spot a lie before it forms and comes out of their mouths. It's kind of like walking towards your sleeping child's bedroom, and before you even open the door, you can tell that your child has vomited at some point in his sleep, all because of that rancid, tell-tale smell that has seeped under the door and permeated the entire hallway. Yeah, it's kind of like that.
So, yes, Caleb was caught in a lie today. And because he needs to learn that lying is unacceptable, what better way to get my point across than to give him a spoonful of this:
No, it's not sugar. And no, it doesn't help the medicine go down. Unless, of course, the medicine was meant to make a statement; a statement that says this behavior will not be tolerated. In which case I say, "drink it up, baby, drink it waaay up."
Yes Caleb, I can see you pointing in the sink, but you can't spit it out just yet. I need to get a few more pictures of this.
Only time will tell if the point was made, but mercy, it really smells like vinegar in here. And now, dang-it, I'm really in the mood for a salad.
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