White Lies and Dog Spit

So do you ever lie to your kids, just a little, when you think it's for their own good? Cause, sometimes I do. I also occasionally tell little white lies when I am feeling sort of lazy and backed into a corner. You know, it goes something like: "Mom, can we go to the park, you said we were done working in the house (said by young man)", to which I might reply, "Um, no, today's not a good day babe, Mommy's gout is really acting up again". Which would work like a charm because his burning curiosity over what exactly gout is would completely distract him from his original query. I don't even know what gout is, but I do know it is something that would really incite the curiosity of a 5 year old boy.

So the other day the young man asked for a peanut butter and honey sandwich, to which I promptly obliged. But then he decided that he "had to finish this level of Lego Indiana Jones" before he could eat the sandwich. So there it sat for about 30 minutes, up on the high counter, looking all lonely and forlorn in front of young man's empty stool. Apparently our dog, Sonya (who is really big), also thought the sandwich looked lonely and forlorn, and too delicious to resist. So while I sat blogging, I heard the unmistakable sound of a plate banging on a granite surface and the jingle of collar tags hitting each other. I deduced in a milisecond what was happening and yelled: "SONYA, DROP IT!!", and so she did, immediately and out of fear for her life. I walked into the kitchen, picked up the completely intact sandwich off the floor and sat it back on the plate. The only damage it sustained were some deep puncture wounds inflicted by Sonya's large teeth, but it was otherwise whole.

So then young man says to me: "Mommy, now I need a new sandwich, Sonya ate mine", and his little bottom lip was trembling with sadness. I started to agree when I realized that we were out of honey, I had used the last of it on the sandwich that nearly became dog food. And if you know young man at all, you know that peanut butter and jelly is nearly as bad as torture by a 10 foot tall closet monster that is forcing him to eat any kind of food besides peanut butter and honey or crackers (yeah, he really enjoys a wide range of food). So I did what any Mom would do (what, you wouldn't?) to cheer up my on the verge of tears boy. I pulled off a tiny corner of the crust and said "now you can eat it, Sonya only had this one little part in her mouth". He happily picked up his sandwich to begin eating, but not before he questioned, "why are there holes in it?". I thought for maybe one second before I said, "I must have punched holes in the bread with my fingers when I picked it up off the floor". Yep, he bought it hook, line, and sinker, and polished off his sandwich like a starving little man. I mean, have you ever known anyone who died or even got sick from a little dog spit? I have never met such a person.