I try, if I can help it, never to say anything of interest in front of my children. Just keep it simple. “Eat your breakfast. Brush your teeth. Go to bed.’” But sooner or later you slip and says something that piques their curiousity and the interrogation begins.
“Mommy, when you were talking with Barb just now you said she was your best friend. Is that true?”
“It was sort of a joke.”
“So she’s not your best friend?”
“Hmmm? No. I mean yes. I mean, I was asking if she could do a favor for me since we were ‘best friends.’”
“We’re not allowed to do that at our school.”
“Not allowed to do what?”
“Say someone can’t be your friend unless they do what you say.”
“You’re misunder…”
“Does Micki know Barb is your best friend?”
“What?…yes…I mean we’re all best friends.”
“So Daddy’s not your best friend?”
“Of course he’s my best friend.”
“Then how come I heard you tell Barb that Daddy’s a terrible listener and you would only tell him interesting news if there was absolutely not another living soul available?”
“You really shouldn’t listen in on other peoples’ conver…”
“Who was your best friend in pre-school?”
“Preschool? I’m not sure I went to preschool…”
“Were you an orphan?”
“You know very well I wasn’t an orphan. You’ve met my parents! They’re your grand…”
“If you and Barb and Micki and Daddy all went to preschool together which one would have been your best friend?”
At least Youngest is straightforward. Middle is sly and sneaky. He pretends that he’s not listening and leaves you alone. You relax and decide Middle is your favorite. Until that moment when you’re standing in front of his friend and their mother and he’s repeating every inappropriate and unfriendly thing you’ve ever said, and you both know he won’t stop until you say “yes” to his request for a sleepover.
As for Oldest, he hasn’t heard a word I’ve said since he entered high school, until he overhears me saying something as innocent as, “goodness, last time I did that I was in college.”
