It would appear as though we have quite the detective on our hands.
We got in the car Friday for what I assumed was a normal ride with the questions started.
“Mom, did you chew my gum?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” I replied as I drove; I was starting to recall I’d chewed a piece while he wasn’t with me the day prior.
“Then what’s that?”
Busted. I played along, though. “That’s my gum.” (Yes, we really have separate gum; he doesn’t like the minty stuff.)
“Oh. Well, can I have a piece of my gum?”
I hand over a piece, and we ride along seeming to have forgotten about the gum. (At least, I thought.)
“I’m pretty sure that was my gum. See, yours is green-ish. Mine’s red. And this wrapper is the same color. Did you chew my gum?”
Nothing gets by him.