Of our two boys, the older is truly the specialist in being bad. His little brother, however, is starting to come into his own. One night last week was a great example. J was off with her friends and I was flying solo with the kids. After dinner, I broke out the chocolate pudding for dessert.

It was good stuff, made all the better by the smidgeon of whipped cream dolloped on top.

Afterwards, I wiped everyone’s face and started clearing the dishes. I should have started with the pudding bowl. After my first trip to the sink, I came back to find N with his face and hands covered in chocolate. Before he was aware of my intentions, I darted to the counter, grabbed a wet-wipe (possibly the best invention ever), and then stepped back to clean him off.

I should have grabbed two. After his hands were clean, the wipe was a mass of chocolatey brown goo.

I looked at his innocent little face. He was smiling, but not, I thought, in a malicious way. It seemed to me more of a “mm…pudding.” smile. I said “stay right there” and stepped over to grab another wipe.

Big mistake. As soon as I let go of him, he took off running to the den.

I shouted “wait! stop!”, grabbed  a wipe, and gave chase. Normally, of course, you’d grab the child first – but I’d already cleaned his hands. The only real chocolatey part of him was his face. What could he do with his face?

When I came around the corner of the couch, he was standing on the other side of the ottoman, grinning at me. He was holding his hands over his head like a monkey. I smiled and said “come-here, you.”

He smiled back – and smashed his face into the ottoman. His pudding covered face. On to our clean ottoman.

As I lunged forward, he kept his face face down on the ottoman, laughing into the cushion.

I had to lift him up off the ground to break contact between his face and the cushion – and then he buried his face into my shoulder, still laughing.

There will come a reckoning, little man. There will come a reckoning.