Who moved my cheese?

At the lunch table today, Douwe dropped his piece of grilled cheese on the floor. I was sitting right next to him so he knew that I saw him drop it. In times past he has had to go sit on the steps for using food and utensils as projectiles from his booster seat. But lately I try to ignore him when he does this, since it rewards him with what he wants anyway, more attention from me and a chance to leave the table early. Also, Karma mimics whatever gets Douwe in trouble so she can have the attention of a consequence also.

I didn't really pay any attention to the dropped sandwich, but he said, as soon as he dropped it. "I don't want to sit on the steps." And then without missing a beat he added: "She jumped off the table by herself."

I'm not sure why a cheesy sandwich scrap is a she, maybe because it was a penguin waddling around his plate a few minutes before. But it amazed me how he discovered in a flash that it might help to make up a new reality, then looked straight in my eye and sweetly described how the sandwich got to the floor. Welcome to the human race, my baby Douwe. You are now complicit with the rest of us who have made many an attempt to cover up our actions and blame another. Usually we are too crafty to pin our actions upon an inanimate object, but you'll figure that out too, I suppose.