Minty

The Boy had been eyeing my mints.  You know the kind, the fat ones that melt in your mouth.  Mmmmm.  He also had been eyeing the three pieces of cake I brought home from work.  So after his bath, TB comes to me commenting on the goodies he has spied.

The Boy: Thank you, Mommy for bringing home cake.  And mints.

Me: You’re welcome.  I didn’t bring home the mints, though.  The mints were already here.

TB: Oh really?  I had no idea.  I hadn’t seen them before.

I have to pause the dialogue here for a moment.  He had no idea the mints were here?  Really?  That kid knows where everything in the house is.  I’m pretty sure he can see through walls.  I’m positive he not only knew we had the mints, but that he knew where they were and how long we have had them.  He was simply biding his time until I took the mints out of the cupboard.

TB: May I have a mint, please?

Me: No, you’re about to have a piece of cake.

The Husband: Come on, man.  You know you can’t have two sweets.

TB: Mints are sweet?  I had no idea mints were sweet.  I just thought they were minty.

I am consistently amazed at how gullible my children think we are.  I am simultaneously pleased by how polite TB is while trying to snooker me.

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