Snitches Get Stiches

We always tell Norah not to keep secrets from Mom and Dad, no matter what. You know, because of psychos and pervs. But at some point, she needs to learn a little discretion. Some things you tell, some things you keep to yourself. This is how people successfully navigate through life.

For example, we were driving home from preschool, the three of us. I asked Norah how her day was.

"Good. Henry was naughty." (Henry is her little buddy at school.)

"Oh. What did he do?"

"I don't 'member. I told the teacher."

"You told on Henry?"

"Yeah. 'Cause he was naughty."

Ryan and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. "Snitches get stitches," I whispered.

"Heather! Jesus."

I turned back to Norah. "Honey, we only tell on people if they're doing something dangerous. Okay?"

"Okay. What else is dangerous?"

"Oh, here we go."

Other times, she's smiled mischievously and said, "I have a secret." I don't like this secret business, but it's not as if it's hard to pry it out of her. She's three.

"What is it?"

"I ate two cookies at Grammy's."

And yet other times, I want her to keep her yapper shut. Like last night when we were waiting at the car. Ryan got in, turned on the car, and just sat there. Not unlocking it for us. This is classic Ryan. We stood there for a while.

"What an asshole," I muttered, rapping on the window.

"MOMMY! Don't say that!"

"Sorry, baby," I said, as we finally entered the car.

"What did Mommy say?" asked Ryan.

"Norah. Loose lips sink ships," I warned.

"What?"

I made a shhh gestured with my finger and lips.

"Mommy said 'ass,'" she said loudly, as I buckled her in.

"Oh really? Who did she call an ass?" Ryan turned fully around from the driver's seat.

"You," she replied. "And a hole."

"Thanks, Norah."

I guess the mature thing would be to filter my mouth spewings, instead of expecting Norah when to use discretion.... I'll consider that.