My kids have learned the fine art of excuses. If they do anything remotely bad, the response to an inquisition by us parents is that they’ve done nothing and are doing nothing. Nothing at all.
“What did you do?” the fuming parents ask.
“What’s going on?” the concerned parents ask.
“What are you up to?” the interested parents ask.
If we sense foul play and push a little further for the truth, my five-year-old son may just bend and amend his “nothing” statement.
“What are you doing?”
“Tell me. Come on. What are you doing!”
“Ah…,” he says, “breathing.”