Beef Stew and Hobo Pie

I love to lie to my children. I can't help it. I absolutely love to do it.

In my defense, I never lie about the serious stuff, like where babies come from or death.  Or even religion for that matter.

My lies are of the fun ridiculous sort. Like telling them that the red pepper flakes at the pizza joint are actually candy flakes. I suspect I already told you that one. Let me know if I didn't.

Yesterday, on the way to V's allergy shot, the steadfast little trooper gets 4 shots every other week, I told V that his doctor had called today and told me that he could no longer get shots in the arm, that it would have to be in the buttocks.

I went on to say that when he goes in the room to get it, he would have to drop his pants in front of all the nurses. I then exclaimed loudly, "Drop your drawers! Time for a shot in the ass!"

V, who is used to my stories, calmly asked, "Seriously?"

To which I responded, "Yeah, 2 shots in each cheek!"

"Really?"

"No, no, just kidding."

Later that night we were talking about his birthday party, which would be a simple neighborhood party,  the kids who live near us.

He asked, "Even the stranger kids?"

I replied, "No, not the stranger kids, but I did invite the Winos and Hobos who live in the woods down the street. They are excited to come. They said they would bring you cans of beef stew and Hobo pie, whatever that is."

"MOM!"

"Alright, alright. Just kidding"

Von walked away chuckling about getting a can of beef stew for his birthday.

Little does he know.