Pants on Fire

The Honey Badger and I head into the girl’s restroom on our way out of preschool today. There are two stalls. She clearly strides towards the one on the right, so I head to the one on the left. Disgruntled, she says from her closed stall door, “*I* was going to go in THAT one.” Oh well, I say, she can choose this one next time.

A minute or so later, I’m washing my hands at the sink. It’s awfully quiet in the stall on the right. One might actually be pretending to be a statue in there, based on visual evidence of two legs firmly planted on the ground, not moving, and certainly not dangling from the toilet. I can tell that we are having an impromptu standoff. Suddenly, I hear and see commotion between the two stalls. There is a blonde haired honey badger on all fours: stomach, hands, legs and feet gratuitously touching every nasty ass square inch of the tile floor, army crawling from her stall on the right, to the more desirable one on the left.

“ERIN!!!! NO! We don’t CRAWL on the ground like that! GROSS! Come on, honey!!”

“Yes, we do! It says right here on this door, Mommy! It says, ‘Please, everybody, crawl on the ground to the other bathroom’. It says it right here on this door!”

She set the bar for bold-faced lies today. I’d like to see what might top this. It was pretty impressive.