Last night, I left the livingroom briefly, and when I returned, Finn said, "Mama, I'm sorry I spilled your beer." It took me a second to process, as I looked at him, and then noticed the Guinness bottle on its side near the front door, its contents spilled in between the floor rug and the door mat. I then remembered that Finn and I had been sitting in the arm chair by the front door, and I had put my beer on the floor next to the chair, thinking, as I did it, "This is a stupid place to put this. I am going to knock it over."
The thing that astounds me is Finn's willingness to volunteer this information when he could have said nothing. I probably would have figured that I did it. I am going to take this a sign of maturity and intelligence.
Of course, he still craps in his underwear.
But all-in-all, I think I would rather have the honesty and apology.