Tuesday, 16 October 2007

Lying to a four year old

A bit of pre-school dialogue.

Lily (age 4): Where's my puppet?

Dad: [thinks: uh-oh.]

Lily: Daddy did you take my puppet out of my bag?

Dad: [thinks: you mean that crushed brown paper bag with the texta marks and the strands of different coloured wool randomly stuck on with glue?] I don't know. Quick Lily, get your bag on, we're going out the door.

Lily : Did you throw it in the bin, Daddy?

Dad: [thinks: oopsy, looks like I did. I just thought the pre-school teachers were throwing their rubbish out again, in my daughters' bags like they usually do instead of using the bin!] Come on Lily we're not talking about that right now, we're going to the car.

Lily : Can I sit in the back-back [the third row of seats in the car] like my stisters*, Daddy? Why not? Why do I have to sit here?

Dad: [thinks: yes!!]

Dear Heavenly Father,

Thank you for my three daughters. Thank you that the brown paper bag with texta marks and wool glued onto it was not covered with yoghurt and rancid oil when I pulled it out of the garbage bin. Please may it dry out and stop smelling. Thank you for sibling rivalry.


Comments on this and related ethical dilemmas always welcome.

*not a typo


Michael K said...

how long before Lily googles you & discovers these confessions?
how long before one of her sisters rats you out?!
welcome back

Gordon Cheng said...

Yes, I'm hoping that all will be forgiven and forgotten by that time. And the puppet is, after all, intact!

Thanks for the welcome back. We prayed for you, and your nose, and your congregation at Carlo staff meeting yesterday.

marion said...

Gordon we called it the back-back when we were kids!! Except in those dangerous dark ages there were no seats, no seatbelts etc etc

Anonymous said...

You describe it too well Gordo. :-)

That sudden guilty feeling for throwing out "the thing"! I mean, our house has a "thing draw" where we store many of these precious masterpieces, but some of the "things" are less coherently "craft" than others, more Dada than expressionism... which is a bit like my life sometimes.