Our eldest son isn't someone who could be considered 'sneaky'.
In fact, I think he swings quite the other way.
Oh, he tries.
In fact, when he was little, he used to fancy himself a ninja.
The master of subtlety and sneak-iness.
But when it came to actually . . . shifting the blame, or obfuscation of facts?
He was lost.
And oddly enough, it was usually because he couldn’t bear to leave things in a disorderly manner.
Let's face it. Sneaking into other people's possessions, and tidying them before you leave?
Better than they were before?
Not the most subtle of practices.
When ES was 12, his scout group was fund-raising.
He dutifully received his case of chocolate-covered almonds.
I should point out that he was supposed to sell them.
The case rested - for safety's sake and because I knew my almond-loving son - on the floor in my bedroom.
Daily, I lifted one of the boxes on top and rattled it.
Just to make sure it hadn't been tampered with.
In hindsight, I should have dug deeper.
Moving on . . .
The evening came when we had been planning to go door-to-door.
I lifted the case.
It was surprisingly light.
Much too light.
I discovered that the only boxes that actually contained almonds were the four on the top.
ES had been systematically eating the rest.
Then tidily sealing the empties and putting them back into the box.
He also had a thing for ice cream.
The sneaking of which was a family Olympic sport.
But where the other kids would grab a spoon and sneak a bite, then dispose of said spoon into the sink where it would instantly achieve anonymity, ES would get out a bowl.
Sneak his ice cream.
Then rinse the bowl and spoon.
And set them in the freezer.
With the ice cream.
Remember what I said about subtlety?
Yep. Not happening.
Years have passed.
I can't comment about his almond/ice cream snitching ways or their effectiveness today.
His wife and his kids have to worry about that.
It's a perfect world.