Spies in the Family

We have some junior spies in the family on a (not so) top-secret mission: Operation Mommy Investigation. Basically it goes like this: they sneak around the house and I pretend not to see them. They have a hide-out where they do most of their covert investigating. The hide-out is behind my recliner, while I'm sitting in it. I happen to turn my head at the right moment, they sneak back there while I'm reading or whatever, and then they sit there and giggle. Or they start making "mysterious" noises, and I start complaining loudly about the mice which seem to have invaded our home, or threatening to call the police on our neighbors who are making such a terrible racket. Then I remark, to myself because no one is listening, that I think I'll close my eyes for a minute and take a rest. That's their cue to exit the hide-out unseen by their subject. Even Mathilda likes to play along, hiding in the curtains and revealing herself every 10 seconds or so while laughing hysterically. Later on the spies will let me in on their mission, incredulous that they are so fantastically good at sleuthing that I never even knew (!) they were behind my chair, or under the dining room table, or  sneaking past me as I made dinner or did laundry.

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Mathilda has begun to take up climbing as a hobby quite earnestly. I haven't yet found her on the dining room table (I don't think she's thought of it) or on the kitchen counters (she's trying), but couches, chairs, coffee tables and toilets are all part of the game. Of course there's no way of knowing if she could climb her way out of her crib because she never sleeps in it. I remember before I had kids and I just knew I was never going to let a child of mine sleep in my bed. Yeah, those were the days when I knew everything there was to know about being a parent without actually being a parent. Reality sort of has a way of asserting itself.