*After catching you in a lie about who poured water all over the bathroom:
Me: Cookie, you have to tell the truth, ok? You can’t say something that didn’t happen.
Me: If you did it, you must tell Mommy and Daddy you did it.
*Later that day:
Me: What is that smell?
Cookie: I did it! I farted!
Me: *gag* Ok, Cookie. Good job telling the truth.
Cookie: The truth is funny! I farted!
Mommy: Why is she proud of her farts? What did you teach her?
The consequences of teaching you to tell the truth is that now, two years later, you really are proud of your farts. At your aunt’s wedding, you wowed everyone by flawlessly switching between your four languages, answering different people in the language of the questions asked. While they were congratulating you, you raised both hands to stop everyone. In a dead serious tone, you proudly announced that you spoke another language, whereupon you, in your little flower girl dress, turned around, raised your butt, and let one fly.
The next evolution of the fart saga occurred when your behind bellowed in a crowded elevator. Your stroller stood in the corner, and the source of the noise not only came from your direction, it also came from direction lower than what would have been possible for the other adults present.
Cookie: Not me!
All of the adults grinned at the obviously false proclamation of an one-year-old… until the noxious fumes caused people with weaker stomachs to gag. I had to wait for fresh air before explaining:
Me: Cookie, you can’t deny it’s you, when everyone knows it’s you.
Cookie: Ok, Daddy.
The wheels of your brain churning were clearly evident on your face. The next fart came a few minutes later.
Cookie waving your arms like a Madagascar penguin: You didn’t hear anything.
Also known as, should I really be teaching my one-year-old this stuff?
This story starts, as many of these stories start, with a fart. It was a loud fart, like a balloon popping, a sound that startled both you and me. We were in the middle of changing you into your pjs, just after brushing your teeth and before reading your bedtime books. Mommy was still in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner plates.
Me: That was a big one!
Cookie: Mommy did it.
Me: No, Mommy didn’t do it; she’s not even here.
Your face shows some serious thought occurring in that brain of yours.
Cookie: Then, you did it!
Me: No, I would know if I did it. You can’t blame someone else for your fart if everyone knows it’s not true.
Ten minutes later, after Mommy had joined us, and while we’re reading books, you let another loud fart rip.
Cookie: I didn’t do it. You don’t know if Mommy did it, and you don’t know if Daddy did it!
Mommy: ! What did you teach her?