This morning Oliver officially broke my heart for the first (and I largely suspect not the last) time. I went into his room to get him up and dressed for nursery and found that he was already awake. This is how the conversation went:
Him (acusatorily): My smiley painting is in the bin
Me: (Aghast - not his best work and it went in the bin well before the weekend) Erm - I don't think it is.
Him (obviously been mulling over it before I came in): Yes it is. My smiley painting is in the bin.
Me (panic - how does he know? Is he bluffing me? Trying to remain calm): Why do you think it is in the bin, Ol?
Him (sadly shrugs): Because I can't see it anywhere.
Me (uplifting and trying to rescue his little self from his undeserving mummy): Aahh - Ol, y'know what happens to the best pictures?
Him (looks sadly at me): What?
Me (still trying to be convincing but realise how trite this is about to sound): Well - the best pictures are taken away by the Picture Fairies
Him (looks doubtful and won't be moved on his resolve): Hmmm
And that was that.
Not only was I totally caught out by my all knowing 3 year old, I was completely and utterly unable to convince him otherwise and tried to fob him off with a lame fairy related theif-in-the-night tale.
So what to do now? Do I have to keep every single scrap of scribble and paint splashes and forward them all to him in 7 large suitcases when he leaves home? Should I take to sticking every single picture on the kitchen cupboards/fridge/dishwasher/dog until there is no space left? What then? Get another dog? I already have drawers full of birthday cards that I can't bear to chuck out. Will a trip to IKEA help or will I just end up spending the best part of £100 and have nothing substantive to show for it other than a couple of tealight holders, a pot plant and a bag of Daim bars?
Maybe I should get busy with my Marigolds - it's bin day on Thursday...