Crying Wolf

Kids are so literal.

I was thinking back today to when Josh was little. It seems like just yesterday. I remember one particular day, 10 years ago, when four-year-old Joshua thought it would be funny to frantically call me from the other room. Heart pounding, I rushed to his rescue only to hear him giggle hysterically once I got there. “Hi, Mommy,” he laughed innocently.

After one more panic-inducing episode, I decided to turn this into a teaching moment.

“Have you ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?” I asked. No, he had not.

I launched into Aesop’s Fable. “There was once this little boy who was a shepherd. He took care of sheep. He thought it would be funny to trick the people in his town into thinking that a wolf was about to kill his sheep. The townspeople would run to help the boy, only to find the little shepherd boy laughing because there was no wolf. He did this many times. The people came each time, but there was never a wolf threatening his flock. One day, though, a wolf actually did come to attack his sheep. The little boy cried desperately for help, but no one came because they thought they were being tricked again. So, the wolf killed the sheep.”

I paused, waiting for the little light bulb to go on in his head.

But instead of sorrow and shame, his big brown eyes grew even wider as he asked, “Mommy! How big was the wolf? What color was he? Were his teeth pointy?”

The moral went right over his head. But he sure enjoyed an entertaining story.

Sighing in defeat, I answered, “Big, brown, and very pointy.”

Kids are so literal.