The scam artist

Jeff and I are raising a scam artist. He's smart and cunning, and he isn't afraid to use those traits to skew things to his liking.

This morning, Biscuit was watching cartoons while Jeff and I were getting dressed. So when it came time for Biscuit to get dressed, he was not pleased with the fact that Jeff turned off the TV.

He pouted, and he cried.

Jeff and I are on the same page about Biscuit's crying. If he's hurt or sick or sad or if his feelings are hurt, we don't see anything wrong with him expressing his emotions with a few tears.

But if Biscuit cries because he didn't get his way, he will be quickly reminded that things aren't always going to go his way, and he might as well suck it up. We don't use those exact words, but that's the point we're trying to make. Whining ain't allowed!

So Biscuit was crying as he left the living room this morning. Jeff stopped off in the kitchen, but Biscuit walked into the bathroom where I was brushing my teeth.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

Biscuit still has a stutter (although it has improved some), so it took him a few tries to get it all out.

"We didn't say my prayers or give me my allergy medicine last night, Mooooom," Biscuit wailed.

He was really upset, and I felt so bad for him. I couldn't imagine why he was so upset about not saying prayers or getting medicine.

I scooped him up and hugged on him for a few minutes and told him everything was okay.

"It's not a big deal," I told him. "We'll give you your medicine tonight, and you can say your prayers, and everything will be fine."

I was holding him and rocking back and forth.

He finally stopped crying, and we started having one of our usual morning dance parties to a song on the radio.

Jeff was taking Biscuit to day care, and I was heading out for work. I remembered a question I meant to ask Jeff, so I gave him time to leave day care and called him.

Somehow or another, the topic of Biscuit's crying this morning came up.

"He was so upset," I said to Jeff. "I wonder what made him even think about his medicine and his prayers?"

"Kimmy, I hate to tell you this," Jeff said, "but you got played."

"What?" I asked him.

"He was mad because I turned off cartoons, and he was crying about it," Jeff said. "I told him that he was just crying because he didn't get his way. Then he came running to you with a different story, so he could get some sympathy."

So if our boy offers you any oceanfront property in Arizona, don't buy in!