One of my very few house rules is that food must be eaten at the table. Food must not be eaten downstairs (with pop corn being an occasional exception).
I think these guidelines are perfectly reasonable, but William finds them the height of unfairness. "But I'm hungry and I want to watch Treehouse," says he.
Well today I gave the kids some grapes for snack, and the moment I wasn't looking my son carried his plate downstairs.
"Where's your plate?"
"It's already in the sink," William said while attempting to block my view of the basement. Then, when it was obvious that I could see the plate sitting on the couch: "Jadzia brought it down there."
I told him he could not have anymore grapes because he broke the rule about not eating downstairs and then lied about it. He was upset for a short while, but then I considered the matter settled.
Later, my son came to me with his face covered in yogurt.
"What's that all over your face?"
"Jadzia just put yogurt on my face."
Apparently my two-year-old daughter had also brought a chair from the dining room to the kitchen, removed an entire package of single serving yogurts, and eaten them/spilled them on the downstairs carpet.
Right.
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