The Sting

My husband and I were watching a movie (The Sting, great movie), assuming both children were snug in their beds when we heard a knock on Jude's door. Ben went in to answer the call and their conversation went a little something like this:
Ben, getting down on his level: "What's up buddy?"
"I did a poop." (he's still not potty trained at night and likes to wait until he's got his diaper on for number 2; it's delightful)
"Okay, I'll go get some wipes."
"Daaad... what were you eating?"
"Well, uh, I had a string cheese... and some cake..."
"Did you have some chips?" (these are Jude's favorite)
"yes." (boy, it sounds like we're real pigs)
At this point, Ben goes to get some wipes and Jude wanders into the living room where I am, and a particularly aggressive scene is on.
"Hi Mommy." (squinty eyes)
"Hey Buddy." (quickly pause the movie)
"What are you watching?"
"It's called the Sting."
"Can I watch it too?"
"No, buddy, it's a grown-up movie."
And now he starts to notice his surroundings. I watch as he takes in the sights before him, the empty bag of chips on the table, the mostly eaten cake on the plate, and he says, "Oh."
I can just imagine what's going through his mind right now. Man, these guys really live it up when I go to bed. Can we say "double standard?"
I felt like I was caught. So, I proceeded to try to distract him from the discrepancy. Luckily, he's three and it worked.