Lies, lies, all lies

When the children were little, Jim and I had to conscientiously and systematically train them to be honest, compassionate, polite, and diligent, among other things.  We never did have to teach them to be naughty, though.  They were born just knowing.

Mikey's first complete sentence was a lie.  My adorable little toddler had drawn on the walls of a house we were borrowing while on furlough - in purple crayon, no less.  I was mortified, and exclaimed the first ridiculous thing that popped into my motherly head:  "Mikey!  Did you draw on the wall with that crayon?" 

With the smoking gun in his hand, and even looking down at it before quickly putting it behind his back, Mikey replied, "Bubba do dat."  He blamed his big brother, Christopher.  My precious baby lied to me!

Later one of the younger siblings scribbled on the closet door in her room.  When confronted, she, too instantly opted to blame Chris.

Ironically this happened a third time with the same crime and the same alleged culprit (with the weapon in the hand of an even younger sibling).  Finally I confronted Christopher, by then a young teen, and declared he would have to be punished.  Three witnesses over a ten-year period identified him as the graffiti artist, and they wouldn't all lie, would they?

Then again, um, yeah they would.

That sin nature shows up early and stays late.