My five-year old daughter lied to me. I’m quite used to her lying, because she lies to me in a funny way many times: “Daddy, I won’t annoy you any longer, I promise” while jumping on my stomach once again, I reply “Stop it, don’t do it again, It hurts”, but I expect and want her to do it again. This time, it was different.
Morning. Our living room full of small pieces of paper. Mess! Me: “Who did it?!” Daughter: “It was Franta”. I rebuked my two-year old son for making such a mess. I cleaned up the mess. My daughter was watching.