“Eat some peas,” my wife said, handing our oldest son the serving bowl of steamed peas and carrots.

He waved her away. “I already did.”

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows at him.

“I did! I did!” He turned to his younger brother. “You saw me eat them. Tell her!”

A slow smile spread across my nine-year old’s face.

His older brother slumped in his chair, defeated. “Okay. I’ll eat some more, but I did already have some.”

“I saw him,” I lied. “He’s good.”

My youngest son flashed me a “how could you?” look.

I’m not really sure why I did it, but I think it was his smile. There’s just something unsettling about seeing an evil smile on a 9-year old’s face.