Nancy’s learnt to fib.
I’m not sure where from, but she has.
We’re staying at my mum’s house for a few days, which is ace, as Nancy wakes up and wants to play with Nanny so I get to have a lie in for the first time in what feels like two years.
And I've started noticing little untruths she's saying, not only to her grandparents, but her plastic toys too.
Nancy’s first whopper was when we’d gone over to see another set of grandparents, and she was sat with her Nanna, and was asked if she’d done a poo.
To which she said she hadn’t.
And when asked what the smell was, she totally straight faced, claimed, ‘it was Nanna.’
She has also been drinking out of the bowl when having cereal at the childminders, which she’d told them she’d learnt to do from me.
Not so ace.
But it’s not the fact that she’s fibbing, as we all do that.
It’s that she can do it while looking you straight in the eye, with no signs of cracking.
She’s two, and will happily tell me she’s eaten all her carrots, for me to find she’s been sitting on them throughout dinner.
At the moment I’ve got to be extra vigilant, as I don’t really trust my memory either.
The other morning Nancy claimed she’d already had her teeth brushed, but I assuming that she was telling a porky so brushed them again, only to remember later that I had already done them, as had Ben.
Three times is quite a lot for a child who totally hates having it done once.
So I’ve got to keep my wits about me.
Because girls are better at manipulating situations. I know. I am one.
Nancy may only be two, but I’m not going to let her catch me out.
It starts with them publically blaiming a fart on you, and ends with your 14 year old staying at over at a boys house they've met while on their GCSE work experience week having told you they’re staying with their best friend*.