Telling the Truth

Zanma-san came to babysit this afternoon through the evening when I finished work at six. The boys were pretty excited, so nap time was out. 

Kenzo and Osamu love playing with her, and she is a great babysitter. She's a grandma, so she has certain instincts. However, her grandma instincts also incline her to indulge the boys when they step over the line, which they are experts at. They're like ninjas.

Around 4 p.m. Osamu came up to my office, already in his jacket, and asked if he and Kenzo could go outside with Zanma-san. I said yes, but to wait a moment until I could go down and make sure that was okay with her. It was, of course. She was worried about what I thought, to which I told her, "I would be outside with these guys right now and camp outside in the garden every night if it was practical." 

However, I told her that if she didn't feel like going outside then I will tell the boys that today we're playing inside. Papa's word is final.

They went outside. My instructions were that you guys can play in the driveway and no going in the street.

Fifteen minutes later when the sound of their playing in the driveway went away and wasn't replaced by the sound of them playing downstairs in the living room I walked from my desk across the upstairs hall to the bedroom window and peeked outside to see what I could see.

As I kinda expected, the boys had convinced Zanma-san that it was totally fine if they go down the street to the steps that lead down to the park and race their toy cars down the concrete incline that parallels the steps. A third of me was thinking, "What the heck?!" The other two-thirds was thinking, "Right on."

Around sunset I decided to go for a short walking break. Thanks to Zanma-san I can do that. Normally of course I can't leave the house since, even though I'm working, I'm the supervising papa.

It was a gorgeous sunset. I caught the tail end of it walking down the street. Dark grey clouds with dramatic orange popping out from behind them.

When I got back I snuck back up to my office, put my coat and neck warmer and gloves (it's zero Celsius outside) on my spare chair that acts as a hanger, and grabbed a tissue because my nose was running a bit.

The tissue box seemed a bit light. The garbage can also seemed a bit full. I sensed that shenanigans of the not good kind had transpired during the ten minutes I was gone.

"Kenzo!" I called downstairs. He came trudging up and before I said anything he went, "I didn't do it."

I'm never going to rob a bank with my first born son.

After a short interrogation I told Kenzo to go downstairs and tell Osamu to come up and see papa.

The footsteps I heard coming up were slow and intentional. For a four-year-old.

Osamu stepped into my office. I was holding a trash can full of tissues that were unused.

Calmly of course, "Did you do this Osamu?"

He shook his head and mumbled something about Kenzo.

"Osamu, please tell papa the truth. I will not be angry. Did you do this?"

His bottom lip trembled, and he nodded yes.

I gave him a good long hug and told him I love him and said, "Telling the truth is more important than anything."

He's four. He'll be fine.