We’re a four car family with only three garage remotes. Purchasing a remote for Courtney has yet to be scratched off the to-do list. So this morning when Cammie left for her 19 day drill I asked her to leave her garage remote for Courtney. I walked her out, grabbed the remote, put it on the kitchen table and laid down with Gavin and Sophie.

Later this morning as Courtney walked out the door for work, I glanced at the kitchen table with missing remote and asked her if she got it. “No,” she hollered back and rushed out the door.

I was puzzled. “I know I put that remote on the kitchen table,” I mumbled as I looked around for the missing remote. “This is crazy.” Then I turned to the three-year-old following me. “Sophie, did you move the garage remote?”

“No.”

“You had to move it. I know I put it there.”

As if process of elimination and her history weren’t clue enough, she reached under the table, unclipped the remote and handed it to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me you moved it?”

“I didn’t move it,” she persisted.

“I know you moved it, Sophie,” I began with my interrogation. “It’s very important that you tell me the truth. Always tell the truth even if you’ve done something wrong. Now, I’m giving you another chance. If you want to go to the movies today you need to tell me the truth.”

“Okay,” she said waving her hands and slinging her hair. “This is what happened. . .

Here we go again. . .

“I got up last night,” she paused, looked around as if thinking through the details and smacked her lips.

Oh, the dramatics!

“I saw the remote. Right there on the table.” She points. “And then. . . I saw it. It was just clipped under the table.” The End.

“Tell me the truth,” I demanded. “I put it here this morning.”

“Okay. Cooper. . . ”

“NO,” I interrupted. “I don’t want to hear anything about Cooper!” (She hasn’t seen him since the end of preschool and she’s dragging the poor boy into this equation.) “Now, tell me the truth, Sophie.”

“I think I did it.”

“No, you don’t think you did it, you. . .”

“YES, I did it,” she interrupted, clearly not understanding my point.

“Well, don’t say you think you did it because you know you did it.”

“I did it!!”

Finally!

“Always tell the truth, Sophie. Always. Now go get my cell phone and call Courtney and tell her that you’re sorry but you hid the remote.”

So she ran off to get my cell and I let out a heavy sigh of exasperation. I could’ve cared less why she put it there. Who knows why three-year-olds do the things they do? I was just grateful that I was getting somewhere.


Then she walked by me with with my cell to her ear. “Hey. . . I’m sorry, but mom hid the remote.”

“What?!”

I could faintly hear Courtney in the background and then, again, “I’m sorry, but mom hid the remote.”

“SOPHIE! No, you tell her ‘I’m sorry but I hid the remote.”

“I’m sorry, but mom hid the remote.”

Okay, maybe that time she was a little confused with the wording. “SOPHIE! Tell her you’re sorry, but Sophie hid the remote.”

“I’m sorry, but I hid the remote.”

“Thank you!”

I took the phone and explained the story to a giggling Courtney.

And now I’m going to Google matinée showings of Marmaduke.