Those lyin' eyes

Sunday afternoon Grayson took Nathaniel and Nicholas to the library to check out their game selection. When they came home, Nick came bounding into the den:

Nick: [excitedly] "MOMMY. Can I play my new Wii game?"

Me: "Sure."

Nick: "IT'S GONNA BE SO. MUCH. FUN."

Me: "What is it?"

Nick: "GI JOE!"

Nick: [mumbles] "It's rated Teen."

Me: "WHAT?"

Nick: "DADDY. MOMMY SAYS I CAN PLAY IT."

Grayson: "You did?"

Me: "Well, he left out the pertinent point until after I'd said yes. But I'll watch it as they play it, and if it's worse than Star Wars, we'll turn it off."

So there was that little lie of omission on Sunday, and then yesterday morning when the alarm went off, I heard Nathaniel jump out of bed and run downstairs without brushing his teeth or going to the bathroom. When Grayson went downstairs, I asked him to check with Nathaniel to see if he'd brushed his teeth. He later reported back that he had. I marched straight into the bathroom and found a sink and toothbrush that were both dry as a bone.

[And here is where I realize I have turned into my mother -- complete with references to "DRY AS A BONE" -- because she both checked our toothbrushes AND smelled our breath while attending to this very matter when we were growing up.]

So I went downstairs and called Nathaniel up.

Me: "Why did you tell Daddy you'd brushed your teeth?"

Nathaniel: "Because I did."

Me: "No, you didn't. Come here. Sink: DRY. Toothbrush: DRY. Brush them now. And Don't Lie To Me."

Nathaniel: [abashed] "Okay."

So here's the thing: those are the little lies. But they are only 7 and 5. Am I the only one worried about the Big Ones to come? 2018, I fear you.