My phone rang earlier than usual yesterday morning. Caller ID showed it was Megan.

"Hey there," I answered, a strong What's up? in my tone.

"Hi Gramma," was the response.

"Bubby? Is this Bubby?" I asked. "Did you go trick-or-treating last night?"

"Yeah," he replied rather unenthusiastically. "I called to tell you something, Gramma."

I sat back in my chair, listening closely for his tale of trick-or-treating to come.

"I called to <mumble, mumble, indecipherable mumble> breakfast in bed," my grandson warbled.

"What, Bubby? I couldn't hear you. Say that again."

"I didn't have breakfast in bed, Gramma. I'm sorry I lied to you."

Oh.

Seems the conversation on which yesterday's post was based was all a bunch of baloney, for Bubby had come clean (surely at Mommy's urging): He never had breakfast in bed on his birthday and made up the story he'd told Gramma.

"I'm sorry, Gramma," he offered again.

"Okay, Bubby," I said. "You should never tell stories like that to Gramma."

I wasn't really sure how to respond. Megan made it clear in the past that I'm never to say That's okay when Bubby apologizes for something that is not okay. Simply forgive and move on, is her suggested response—which I'm supposed to follow, as she's the mom in charge.

After a fumbling forgiveness from Gramma, Bubby cut the conversation short with a quick I love you then put Mommy Megan on the phone.

"Sorry, Mom. It never happened," Megan said. "As I read your post, I was thinking What in the world? Then I realized Bubby had lied to you. He did choose Reese's cereal for breakfast—last year for his three-year-old birthday—but not this year. And he never had breakfast in bed."

So it seems we have a little fibber in the family.

Megan and I agreed that such things are pretty common with a four-year-old and no big deal, and that in Bubby's imagination such a marvelous thing did indeed happen, so he was happy to share the exciting (albeit untrue) event with Gramma.

Kind of an eye-opener for Gramma, I must admit. But, lesson learned.

Bubby learned lying to Gramma about the simplest of things isn't a good idea.

Gramma learned writing a post about a conversation with Bubby without first confirming the truth of the tale with Mommy isn't a good idea either.

Today's question:

What's your experience with children telling untrue tales?

Does nabbing Mommy's bag of chips and running away (with his mouth full!) make Bubby a thief, too?Megan called late Sunday afternoon.

"Guess what Bubby just told me," she said. (See, she still does the "Know What?" thing.)

"What?"

"Bubby told me PawDad was drinking beer ... at Gramma's."

"What?"

"And Bubby said Gramma was drinking beer, too."

First, the backstory for those who don't know: Bubby came to visit Gramma and PawDad in the mountains at summer's end. Without Mom or Dad. Which is why Megan wasn't too sure about what her son was telling her.

Her tone wasn't accusatory, but with a plethora of alcoholics in our extended family, I clearly picked up on an underlying WTH? in Megan's question.

"That's weird. Dad and I certainly weren't drinking any beer while Bubby was here. And I seriously doubt he saw it in the bar since he never even went near it while here. I have no idea why he'd say that."

Yes, we have a bar. And yes, it's stocked with a fair amount of beer ... and liquor. Everyone in my house is pretty responsible about drinking, so it's no big deal we indulge now and then. But Jim and I certainly didn't indulge while Bubby was here. That would not have been responsible.

Megan knows us pretty well -- we are her parents, for heaven's sake -- so she believed me and that was that. No biggie. I do understand that as a concerned parent, she had to ask. Just in case.

Then Megan put Bubby on the phone.

"Hi, Gramma!" he bubbled.

"Hi, Bubby! What are you doing?"

"We're going shopping!"

"Shopping!? What are you going shopping for?"

"COOKIES! Chocolate CHIP cookies," he shouted.

"Oh yeah? Are you having chocolate chip cookies for dinner?" (I was just kidding, just being silly, of course.)

"Yeah! Chocolate chip cookies for dinner!" he confirmed.

"Yum! You enjoy your chocolate chip cookies for dinner. I'll talk to you later, Bubby. I love you!"

"I wuh woo," he said, then gave the phone back to Megan.

"Cookies for dinner?" I asked her.

"No. He's a little liar!" she said with a chuckle. "I have no idea what he's talking about."

"Yeah, I don't know what he's talking about either. Oh well. You go enjoy your chocolate chip cookies for dinner."

"Okay. You go enjoy your beer! Talk to you later!"

End of story, end of interrogation.

So what's up with that? Is my two-and-a-half-year-old grandson a little liar, trying to get his mommy and his grandma in trouble with each other?

Or is Bubby simply a silly little storyteller, exercising his imagination and making up tales of goofiness?

I suppose either case might be okay at this point because if not, it's woefully clear that I failed miserably in teaching my daughter how to serve balanced meals to her family!

Today's question:

Do you think toddlers lie? Do you think they understand the concept of lying?