cat named pig

Siena and her No. One Partner in Crime, Avery, really pulled one over on us last night. Usually preschooler “tricks” are about as transparent as, well, I was going to say windows, but the ones around here are filthy, practically opaque, so not windows. Saran wrap? Anyway, when Siena has tried to trick me in the past, I’ve usually seen it coming a mile away. No problem. 

Which is why Sara and I were somewhat surprised last night by the sophisticated ruse they employed to get us out of the kitchen so they could drag a chair in and climb up to reach the candy jar on the counter.  

“There’s a show in the basement. . . right now! It’s only for girls, well I guess you can bring your little boy.” It started something like this, nothing out of the ordinary as we are invited to view “shows” of all kinds on a regular basis. Then it got more interesting. . . .”

Actually, the show isn’t happening but the toy museum is down there. You need to go watch the toy museum.”

Huh? I still don’t know. Thinking the toy museum might be some new variation on show (art installation, perhaps?) we grabbed Elliot and headed downstairs. When we got down there, we were puzzled to find nothing really resembling a show, or display of toys, or anything other than the usual mess. But Sara and I were discussing something really important, like why our husbands always leave the kitchen a smoldering wreck of a mess every time they cook, or maybe haircuts, so we didn’t really think much of the non-show, non-toy-museum.

Until I heard the sound of something heavy being dragged into the kitchen upstairs. Something heavy, like a chair. Then I understood. There was no show. No toy museum. Just a plot to get us out of the way so they could raid the candy jar.Sure enough, as we came upstairs Siena ran shrieking from the kitchen and Avery quickly hopped down from the chair clutching a handful of brightly wrapped something or other. We cornered her and she reluctantly handed over a fistful of chocolates. (Siena didn’t have anything; apparently she had been on lookout duty. And she revealed herself to be the kind of lookout who abandons her fellow criminal and runs for cover the minute the heat starts coming around the corner.) 

All I know is, they’ll have to come up with something better than that flimsy “toy museum” story next time they want to get us away from the candy. Unfortunately, I’m sure they will.