The age of Innocence. Or, uh, feigned Innocence.

I'm pretty sure my two year old believes in her mind she's mastered the art of conviction. She really gets into it- drawing out her response to any accusation with a "Nooooo! Nottt mee-eee!" Like for example, this afternoon. (Not taking into account that I, in all my laziness, didn't pick up the pieces of ham and cheese sandwich that had been tossed from the high chair by the babes. Hey. She likes to eat everything off the floor anyways- why not have something somewhat nutritious, right? I didn't just write that. You're imagining it. Like I would do that. Ahem. OK, seriously- what's worse- that I think ham & cheese on white bread is nutritious or the fact that I let my baby eat it off the floor after she's tossed it there at lunch? There's no recovering from the point of life I have reached, folks. This is just. The way. It is.)

Moving on. So, there's ham and cheese smeared across the floor and in this scenario, let's just say I hadn't gotten done cleaning up lunch just yet (like it was moments ago if that makes you feel better). So I notice Hannah's socks have a piece of cheese plastered to the bottom of them with a few stray chunks of ham attached to the sides. "Did you do do that?" I ask in one of those dumb moments when you know the answer, but you just ask the question to waste your own time. Like you're going to teach them a lesson on honesty or something equally profound. Like it might actually stick and they might get what you're getting at. I should know better: at this age it's best to just let them do what they want and clean up the mess when they're four. Or fourteen. Or moved out?

Anyways- she looks at me all astonished with her sparkling eyes and says, "Noooo! Not Mee-eeeeee!" So I bend down and pick the mess off her sock. Really, then...? What's this? She looks at it all confused like she has no idea what I'm even talking about. Oh, how she has this innocence-thing down.

She also pulls of the I'm-not-doing-anything-act real well. The other day I went into the bathroom where she was standing next to the sink looking rather guilty and suspicious, although I couldn't really see anything out of the ordinary. She turns her back to me and says, "Go back in the kitchen, now, Mom." This happens quite regularly. Often it's "Close your eyes, Mom." Like somehow she might be able to squirt out all the toothpaste all over the sink without me knowing as long as my eyes aren't open.

She's always got something going on. When we do at last put an end to her charades and tell her she's not allowed to do something, she pulls out the dramatics and slumps her shoulders while she walks away. Like we're so mean and she's so deprived.

Oh, life would be dull without two year olds!