My ten year old son has always suffered with developmental delays; you name it, he did it late. He pretty much survived off of baby food until he was four. ‘Nuff said.

Lately he’s been lying a lot. Actually, “a lot” doesn’t do it justice. Even though we have a rule in our house that you won’t get in trouble as long as you are honest, he has been tossing untruths around like they have wings. I am hoping this is a developmentally-delayed phase and not something we’ll have to deal with much longer.

I should stress that these lies are usually about nothing. Like, absolutely nothing. For instance:

Me: What was that noise?

Him: Well, I think I heard something…

Me: Just tell me the truth. What was the noise?

Him: Okay. I bounced a ball.

I finally grew completely weary of his games last night and he is entering his second full day of no video games, computer or television. As we sat at the dinner table I explained that we will tolerate a lot in this house, but dishonesty is not one of them; then I detailed his punishment.

When I finished I gave him a good, hard glare as if to ask, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

And, he understood exactly what I was saying with that look because he replied, “I think it would be easier if I just went to live with a family of liars.”

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My son’s Cub Scout troop went around the neighborhood yesterday afternoon to drop off bags in which people can leave canned goods. Next weekend, the troop will collect the bags from the porches of those who wish to donate and the boys will deliver the items to those in need.

Of course, my 10 year old son proved that no good deed can go without some tomfoolery, because as the first neighbor opened the door, my son asked, “Trick or treat?”

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While helping my 10 year old son study for his spelling test I said, “Okay, spell mole. Like, ‘I have a mole on my face.'”

He replied, “Oh, I thought you meant the little animal that digs holes, but you meant the the thing on your back with the hair growing out of it.”

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My 10 year old son is small. Since kindergarten, he has been the oldest and the smallest in his class.

One of the reasons that we chose a small, private school is because, for the most part, everyone knows each other. The parents understand that my son is not a typical child and many of them have discussed his differences with their own children. It has created an atmosphere where my son is comfortable and where the kids are, mostly, kind to him. (Note to the three boys who make fun of my child: You’re going to want to knock that off, m’kay?)

Each year we have an influx of families who have never met my son and some of them are surprised when they find out he is 10 years old. Of course, adults do a much better job of hiding their shock than kids do and it isn’t uncommon for a new student to ask my boy how old he is and upon hearing the answer to say, “Wow. You’re little for 10!”

Just two ten year old friends, kickin’ it.

I recently overheard a boy say this to him, so the other night I casually mentioned it while making dinner. I picked up his 48 pound frame, placed him on the kitchen counter and said, “I know kids sometimes tell you how small you are. What do you say to them?”

He replied, “Well sometimes I say, ‘I know I’m small. People come in all different shapes and sizes.'”

I went on with my cucumber cutting and nodded. “Good answer.”

He continued, “And, sometimes I tell them that I really like being short because when I walk along the creek with Daddy, I don’t have to duck when we go under the little bridges.”

For that, my boy got a high-five. What he lacks in size, he makes up for in logic.

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