My son is a big complainer when it comes to folding laundry. He’s only seven, but I think he’s capable and this will be a good skill for him as an adult.

Nevertheless, I am constantly thinking of new ways to present this chore without his getting into histrionics. Recently, I called him to my room and showed him my five heaping baskets of clothes. His eyes bugged out. I asked him if he would like to fold these or his own. He very cheerfully volunteered to do his own.

But being the stickler he is for 'fairness' he soon returned with half the basket full of clothes. "These are not mine."

From the center of the mounds of towels I was folding, I asked him if he could fold the extra clothes anyway.

"But they aren't mine."

So I tried guilt. "Fine. Thanks for letting me know I can't count on you."

He didn't crack.

So, I tried philosophy. "Son, if I were drowning in a lake, would you give me a glass of water?"

"What?"

"If I were drowning, would you give me water?"

"Oh," he said, and left the room with me feeling rather smug. I'd successfully avoided a heated confrontation with philosophy! Who says stay-at-home-moms don't use their college education? I congratulated myself on how smart I am and how smart my kids are. And while I was glowing with these thoughts, my son returned...with a glass of water. He had a gleam in his eye, too.

That's how it is with kids. You have to possess the faculties of a lawyer just to stay one step ahead of these munchkins. When you succeed you gloat and enjoy the moment because you're going to fail the next seven moments in a row.

For instance, while I was folding clothes I heard the sound of the lid on the cookie jar being removed. "Who's in the cookie jar?" I yelled down the hall.

"Nobody!"

"Who is nobody?"

"Nicole."

"What are you doing in the cookie jar?"

"Counting them." Suddenly, the nobody that was doing nothing in the cookie jar was taking a census.

"That’s the worst attempt at lying I have ever heard."

"But I'm not lying."

"That's another lie and if you keep this up," I warned, "you might end up being President of the United States someday."

Meanwhile, my son returns with a glass of milk.

"What’s this for?"

"You said you can't drink water if you're drowning," he says with a further gleam in his eye.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. My kids are so bright they know how to feign stupidity. Just hand me another glass of water. It makes perfect sense to me.