There are lies, lies and then there are... children!

I was watching children's songs on youtube with my 5 and a half years old niece, when a French song comes up.

BornConfuzed: Fa6oom, do they teach you French in school?

Fa6oom (nodding her head proudly): aha

BC (genuinely): They do?

F: Yes, but I forgot.

BC: How come you forgot? What did they teach you?

F: ummm Kumusta?

BC: Fa66ooom!

F: wooops! (nervous giggles). La this is not French. Ummm they taught us something but I can't remember. But the teacher asks me something in French, but I don't remember what she says, and I say Fateema bana dana (pronouncing her name with an accent, with a soft T and exaggerated Es).

BC: What?

F: Yes. Fateema bana dana.

BC (barely containing my laughter): 7abeebee, what language is this?

F: French.

BC (giving her a chance to come clean): Are you sure?

F: Yes, but you don't understand.

BC: 7abeebee, I speak French!

Fa6oom's colors change. She looks mortified. Thinks for a second and then...

F: laaa I forgot, this is not French. A teacher at school taught us this, but I don't know where she's from. But khalas she left the school. The school cancelled her (sawolha cancel). She wont come back!

I knew that children are able to lie convincingly at the age of about four and a half years, I didn't know they get this good at it, and go to such extents not to get caught!

This is one of the posts where I ramble about random stuff..

The clock is ticking, and I only have two precious weeks before my vacation is over and I go back for my final year of school. I decided to make the most out of what time I had left, and guess what I decide to do? Clean my room. Yup, that's the most interesting thing I could come up with. My previously organized room looks like it has been burglarized, with ceiling high stacks of clothes and books. For the past five days I've been cleaning out every nook and cranny, going through storage boxes, winter clothes, dozens of once worn dresses, and yes the inevitable old diaries. I cringed as I read through some 10 year-old diary entries, was tempted to throw them away but held on to them because, well because I am a hoarder.

I also found a suitcase with, not one, not two, but, wait for it, eleven brand new skirts with tags on. I know I have a couple of more suitcases with shirts and pants, just in case shops run out of clothes you know! Did I mention that I was a hoarder?

My book shelf is officially out of space, but I don't have the heart to give away any of my books. I should sell them to a second hand store, or set them free, or donate them but I can't part with my books; I am a hoarder after all!

We can promise ourselves all we want that we wont turn into our parents, then in a totally mundane moment, like when you are slipping a mothball in your winter clothes, it slaps you in the face, "Oh my God, I'm turning into my mother!".