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I learned, during an interview for a job back in the day, how to "trick" someone into telling the truth. And, boy, has that knowledge come in handy during Motherhood.

So here's the conversation that ensued this afternoon:

Tallest son runs into the house, announcing: "The Babe just peed in (neighbor's) yard."

As my brain is wrapping around this news, which, I'm sure, I HAD TO HAVE HEARD WRONG*, The Babe walks in the front door. So I ask, "Why did you pee in the (neighbor's) yard?"

The Babe responds, obviously pissed off** that his brother ratted him out, "I DIDN'T."

I really hate it when the kids lie. So I applied pressure. "Then why would your brother tell me you did?"

"I don't know." As much as I hate a lying kid, I love a kid who sticks to his guns.

"Listen. When you tell a lie to cover up another lie, you've told TWO lies. That's really bad."

"BUT, MOM. I didn't lie. I didn't pee in (neighbor's) yard!"

So I just sat there, staring with my best "Mommy eyes". With one of my boys, the staring, after about 30 seconds, causes him to squirm and I can TELL if I'm being fed a line of bull.

But, The Babe is GOOD. I can't tell squat because he's not a squirmy liar***.

He starts tugging at his pants at this point. Then he asks "Can I go now?"

"Why do you need to go?" I inquire.

"I need to go change my underwear."

"Why?"

"Because they're wet." AH HA! So busted, little buddy.

Now that I have ammunition, I can start to shoot. I know this won't take long because The Babe HATES being in wet clothes for more than a millisecond and the longer I keep up the inquisition, the more the wet Power Ranger undies are going to bug him and, eventually, I will WIN. And he'll HAVE to admit he's lied.

So, I apply the sure-fire technique for outing a Nowell liar: "When**** you peed in the (neighbor's) yard, did you get your underwear wet?"

"Yes." He states this without a hint that he just gave up the goat. In fact, I'm pretty sure he has no idea that he just admitted he's a FIVE-YEAR-OLD LIAR.

"Babe. Are you telling me you lied about peeing in (neighbor's) yard?"

Hanging his head. "Yes ma'am."

Well, the conversation goes into lies-are-bad-and-you-lied-to-Mommy-not-once-but-twice-and-that's-SUPER-bad-and-what-do-you-have-to-say-and-YES-I-forgive-you-but-don't-do-this-again mode.

And then, finally, I let him change his pee-pee pants.

And later? I relay this whole story to my neighbor, who probably thinks my kids are spawn of the Devil*****.

But, hey. As much as I hate what he did, at least I didn't have to trot down and use a plastic bag to pick up his mess.

See? We do have SOME class.


*Truly, though, why did I doubt this? He's my kid who walks out the front door last week, pulls his penis out, and pees off the front porch, fulling exposed to everyone on the street.

**Pun totally intended.

***This fact will NOT come in handy when he's 16 and I'm trying to get him to admit to something.

****The key: Start the sentence with WHEN. Go in assuming you are about to bust their butt and let the noose tighten and hang them. Always works for me.

*****Though I can see WHY someone might think this, actually he is spawn of Mike.