Chloe, our four year old, has been sneaking into the house after the rest of us have piled into the mini-van before school (pyramid style: biggest people on the bottom, next layer back-packs, water bottle on top)

There is no shortage of quick-excuses when questioned why she needs to go back inside, the sign of a true sociopath.

“I forgot my shoes.” (She’s wearing them)

“I need a hair elastic.” (Why, to sling at someone? Her hair is already tied back)

“I need a pen.” (Uses crayons)

And so on.

Yesterday, I decided to wander back into the house, tailing her.

Chloe: Mom! What are you doing?

Me: Oh, I forgot my Didgeridoo (Two can play this game)

I was able to figure out her path. She was racing towards the bathroom.

Hmmmmm.

Words can’t really describe the look on her face but if guilt was a colour, we would call it “Chloe-pink”.

She whizzed past me like I was the one holding us up and hopped into her five point harness.

I asked her what she was trying to slide into one of the side pockets of her bag and she said, “Nothing and do you know why green sucks? That’s always the marker that runs out first.”

The art of distraction. She might be an evil genius.

I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of her sisters but I needed to know if she was a drug dealer so before I let her out of the van, I took a peek inside the secret compartment.

It was filled with make-up.