• 9/5/2009 10:21:55 PMLying about CornHow does a person lie about corn or tell a lie that involves corn?  Creatively - that's how.  In case it was never mentioned before, Michael is one of the nosiest and controlling people I have ever met.  It just gnaws at him to not know what is going on.  

    Here is the story - It is late Saturday evening and I am standing at the grill cooking hamburgers.  We had a very busy day that began early in the morning.  We drove to a small town south of Steven's Point to get a dog, then we drove to Grandma's house and helped Great-Grandma move in, then we came home and worked on building a roof over our front porch.  We're all very tired and hungry and now I'm cooking burgers on the grill.

    Seemingly out of nowhere, Michael comes running up to me, "Hey Dad! Dad!"  This is clearly a sign of something foul in progress - I just don't know what.  The house is not on fire, no one is dead, I didn't hear any loud noises or explosions, there is no sound of crying to be heard and I am in no mood for any Michael shenanigans so I holler out, "whatever it is, the answer is NO".  Michael stops dead in his tracks and looks dejected.  WhoooHoo!  I don't know what that was about but it feels like a win for Dad!

    Now, I'm sure you're as confused as I was about what just happened.  Let's peal back the covers of this incident and take a look inside the world of Michael.

    My oldest son has joined a basketball team and he has been told to get himself in shape for the year.  He has been given a list of some exercises that he will be drilled on and one of them is running a mile.  Sometime while I was standing at the grill cooking burgers, Mom and James decide to get in the car and drive down the road to measure the approximate distance of a mile so that James knows how far to run and he can time himself.  I had no prior knowledge that they were going to do this and I was even not aware that they had gotten in the car and drove off.

    But somebody else was...  Someone saw them drive off and didn't know where they were going...  Someone was concerned that they might be missing out on something...

    After Mom and James returned, Peggy commented to Michael, "I saw you come running across the yard as we drove off and then turn around and go running back towards Dad.  Why did you do that?"

    Michael's response was classic.  He said, "I wanted to tell Dad that if he wanted, he could go and look at the corn in the garden and see if it was ready to pick, he could".

    We are not having corn for dinner tonight but that doesn't matter.  In the world of Michael, leaving flaming burgers on the grill to go off and contemplate corn growth is nothing unusual.  In fact, every I time I grill burgers - my mind is on corn, or beans, or cats playing in the yard, or something else - just like his.

    I said to him, "Why was it so important for you to tell me that?  Why did you come hollering across the yard Dad! Dad!"?  "It wasn't important", said Michael.   "Why did you do it then?", I asked.  "I don't know", he said.

    "Did you want to ask Dad where I was going?", asked Mom.  "No." said Michael.

    We went back and forth with Michael on this issue and cut him off at every lying turn.  That was not a deterrent to him as he kept changing his story.  It was not until we explained how it was that we were certain that he came back to the grill to ask me where Mom was going along with all the details and clues that grudgingly admitted that this was the information he was actually after.  Michael responded, "... well that was part of it."

    "Part of it? Really?", I said.  "What was the 'other part'?"  

    This is another classic Michael-ism.  When he is caught doing something, anything and you reveal to him the real reason or motivation for his action and explain how it is that you know it, he always tells you that you are only partly correct in your assessment.  In fact, your assessment of the reasoning for his actions is always the "lesser" part of a two part reason.

    "What is the other part?", I repeated.  "There is no other part", he responded.  "Why did you tell me there was another part?", I asked.  "I don't know", he said.