Stealth Stealer

Man, I am a BAD blogger.  (My button loving son won't let me near a computer without obsessively whispering, "buuuuutton... BUTTTTTON" and pushing whatever ones he gets his hands on... so, yes). 

Anyway, I check on when I can.  And this story?  This one is too good not to share. 

The other day we had a friend over for a playdate and lunch.  She sat at the table while I puttered around the kitchen after lunch, putting dishes away and the like.  The kids ran around like monkeys, clamoring for attention and getting into everything.  Caly quietly stood next to Heather's seat at the table and after a few minutes, pointed to my not-so-hidden, reserved and coveted halloween themed reeses peanut butter cup and said, "I have that candy?"

I raised my eyebrows and told her no.  No, especially since she ate no lunch at all.  No. 

She stared me down and said, "Yes."

I said no. 

She said yes. 

I said no.  No, NO.  And she got quiet.  So Heather and I went back to chatting and I turned to finish the dishes.  About 10 minutes later, Caly walked back into the kitchen.  Chewing.  She had a mouthful of something and was making a peculiar face.  Concerned, I hurried towards her, thinking she was going to barf, (we have a history now), and got down to her level.  Then I smelled it.

Peanut butter. 

My eyes flew towards the table where my peanut butter cup used to rest.  Gone.  I jumped up and ran into the living room.  The slobbery, shredded, empty wrapper lay on the chair.  My head swiveled back to my daughter who was unconcernedly attempting the chew the rest of her forbidden treat.

"Caly."

"Wut, mama?"

"Is that my treat?"

"Yeds."

"What did mama say when you asked to have it?"

"Mama say no."  She paused to swallow.  "Mama said no treat."

"Ooook, so...  why did you take it and eat it?"

She gave me a look and said, "Because I wanted it." 

Oh.  Um.  Ok. 

"Caly, go sit in time-out until I figure out what to do with you." 

She stuck her lower lip out and trotted to the living room and planted herself in her rocking chair.  Thirty seconds later, she started calling me, "Mammmmma?  Mammma?  I sorry!  I say I sorry for eating your treat!"  I told her to sit there a bit longer.  When I got a straight face finished the dishes, I went into talk to her and she said, "Mommy, I sorry I ate your treat."  I told her that while I was sad it was gone, she was forgiven and she could get up. 

Then she leaned towards me and whispered, "It was lummy!"

Little stinker.