We are in the car, on the way home after picking him up from child care.
“Did you play any games today?” I ask.
“I did”.
“What did you play?”
“We played the wee-wee and poo-poo game.”
“The wee-wee and poo-poo game? That doesn’t sound very good. What do you do in the wee-wee and poo-poo game?”
“We push people down the slide”.
“You push people down the slide? Did you push anyone down the slide?”
“I did. I pushed Daniel down the slide”.
“That’s not very nice,” I say. “What would happen if someone pushed you down the slide? That would be very difficult, wouldn’t it?”
“I can handle it.”
“I don’t like the sound of this game at all,” I say, trying to keep a straight face. “It’s not very nice.”
There is silence for a couple of minutes, then a small voice comes from the rear seat:
“The wee-wee and poo-poo game doesn’t exist.”
“I don’t understand. What are you trying to tell me?” I ask.
“The wee-wee and poo-poo game doesn’t exist,” he says again.
“Do you mean that you told me a made-up story? Did you just tell me a great big fib?”
“I did,” he says smugly.