Breakfast with ducks and liars


J (8 years-old) came into the kitchen this morning stomping one foot and quacking like a duck.  “Guess what I am,” he asked.  “And here’s a hint – it doesn’t really exist.”

I scrutinized him carefully.  “I’m not sure.  A venomous duck?” (that’s my new favorite animal – I swear they’re everywhere!)

“No,” he replied, “I’m a bull-mouse. See, I’m kicking my foot like a bull.”

“A bull-mouse that quacks like a duck?”

“Yeah,” he said, obviously meaning duh, “I told you it wasn’t real.”

That’s when my 6 year-old barreled in from the living room pointing a sharp finger at her brother.  “I knew you were lying!!”

“What?” I asked.

Still glaring at her brother she said, “J said if I blink my eyes when the big hand was on the seven, that my eyes would never open again.  And they did!!”

That’s when I decided arriving a little early for school wouldn’t hurt anyone.


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