Thrown Under The Bus!

jcp-reallyHave you ever met one of those kids that will tell on themselves and throw everyone around them under the bus at the same time? Well, it runs in my family. When my nephew was little, the moment he got home from his grandparents he would list every piece of candy he received and who gave it to him. This was unsolicited information, mind you. “How was your day?” “Granny gave me three pieces of hard candy and Grandpa let me have 14 candy bars. I didn’t ask for the last three, but he said I could have them. I think I’m a little sick.”

As his uncle, I had to lay down some rules. I’d put the candy on the table and say something like, “Oops, I dropped some candy. I guess it belongs to whoever picks it up.” Then I’d wink at him. He’d smile and eat the candy. Then I’d set about twisting the honesty to avoid my sister’s scorn.

“Why did you get candy?”

“Because you love me.”

“Exactly,” I’d reply. “But did I actually hand you the candy?”

“No,” he would say thoughtfully.

“Did anybody hand you the candy?”

“No,” he would repeat.

“So you got candy because I love you, but the truth is nobody actually gave you the candy.”

He would nod his head yes then I’d say, “Remember that when you go home,” as I hugged him.

I must note my sister did not fall for this plan. I know this because my daughter comes out of the store with a bag full of spoiling and proudly proclaims Aunt Sissy bought it for her. Revenge is, well, sweet.

My daughter has inherited this honesty trait. She informed the entire grocery store that her Mimi let her have four smores one time. Her mother tried to point out that she came home sick that day, but was quickly corrected. “I got sick the day she let me have five. Four is my limit,” she confidently proclaimed. On a side note, we have been carefully monitoring her public proclamations since the day she announced to her dance class that she wasn’t going to have a little brother or sister because her mommy took pills to make sure that didn’t happen. It’s this honesty and forthright nature that I both adore and fear. I have been accused a time or two of knowingly violating standards that lead to domestic tranquility. In other words, I don’t always do what I’m told. And my daughter is observant and will throw me to the wolf, that beautiful but dangerous beast.

“Daddy, you didn’t put up your dirty dishes.” “Daddy, you left your pants on the bathroom floor.” You know, that kind of stuff. She is like another set of eyes for my wife. So I rely on old tricks.

“Did you actually see me put those pants on the floor?”

“Well, no.”

“So you don’t know who put those pants on the floor?”

Then my wife walks in and my own flesh and blood, despite not actually witnessing anything, says, “Daddy put his pants on the bathroom floor and he’s trying to get me to lie to you.”

I get flustered and stammer, “Not lie, I, uh, lying is bad. She never asked! You don’t have to volunteer it.”

Then they both just stare at me, and I am awash in my shame.

Source: David Swann