'Cause everybody wants to hide their secrets away...

Lyric courtesy of Good Charlotte, and their song Secrets.

Yes, this is the Four-Year-Old. Don't tell her she's beautiful, she'll tell you she knows already.

Here's a tip for all of you aspiring parents out there: don't tell your child anything you don't want shouted from the rooftops. It's a lesson my husband has yet to learn, and one that my sister-in-law learned this past week while they were in town.

We were all at the condo on the beach where my in-laws were staying. The four-year-old was going to be spending the night there, giving me and the hubby some quiet time for the evening. The Four-Year-Old kept asking me for candy, since we'd all been down to River Street the previous day, and everyone loaded up on goodies from The Peanut Shop. I kept telling her no, since dinner was right around the corner. Ten minutes later, I hear this:

"Well, you see, Brandi, I was a little hungry, so you gave me a chocolate ball. It was yummy. Thank you."

The look on my sister-in-law's face was priceless.

"I didn't think she'd rat me out!" was her reply. To be honest, I should have been irritated that a member of my family countermanded a direct order from me to not let the Four-Year-Old have candy so close to dinner time. But I was secretly gleeful that our darling child had sprung her sense of honesty on another unsuspecting person.

You see, my husband still hasn't learned that the Four-Year-old can't keep quiet about anything, something that amused me to no end this past Christmas. It's why I don't take her Christmas shopping with me, because I know she'll tell everyone what they got. I was treated to this little exchange a few days before Christmas last year.

Me: "So, what did you do today?"

The Then Three-Year-Old: "Oh, we went and saw the nice lady."

Cue me thinking my husband is having an affair and dragging along our child.

Me: "What nice lady?!"

T-Y-O: "The nice lady with the silver key."

Me: "The silver key?"

At this point my darling child looks at me like I'm an idiot and says slowly and patiently: "The nice lady with the silver key that opens the glass box, Mommy. At the big store, with all of the lights and plastic people."

It finally dawned on me that she was telling me that Ray had gone to a department store and bought me something out of a jewelry case. The T-Y-O then went on to tell me it came in a nice black box, and I could wear it on my wrist, but that Daddy told her it was a secret, which apparently is code for : TELL EVERYONE!

So, don't tell your children that you've got a boil in an uncomfortable place unless you want your neighbours to know. And your child's teacher. And his or her friends. And the postman. And the dog down the street.