A Covert Operation

Silence. Ahhh, my mind floats and concentration evades me. Where am I? I don't care. All I know is that the house, yes I believe I am in a house, is quiet and peace prevails. Wait a minute, peace? My calm and blissfully ignorant state of mind is shattered as I come upon the rapid realization that something is elementally wrong with this picture. I have an 18 month old, nothing should ever be quiet. Frantically, I pull myself out of my hazed stupor and proceed to search high and low for my busy little boy. "Caleb!" I call out, nothing. I search his room, the toys sit in wild abandon, mocking my futile efforts. "Caleb, come to mommy!" The bathroom... perhaps he is playing with the toilet paper! Running in that direction, I come upon definite signs of his presence, but my son is nowhere to be seen. The toilet paper has mysteriously been emptyed off its roll and haphazardly discarded into the toilet; which upon closer examination, now has the appearance of being hopelessly clogged. Yup, he was here all right! I close the door behind me to ensure no more damage ensues and continue looking. Selah's room is next, but the door is still closed, and she is still sleeping. No signs of toddler trouble here. The living room is empty as well. Cautiously arriving at my last resort I slow my pace and very carefully peer into the depths of the kitchen... nothing? Wait, that cannot be! There is no where else in this little house for him to hide! And then I hear it... "crinkle, crinkle, crinkle," he has to be here somewhere. Upon closer examination, I see my little monkey... under the table. He has geniously discovered his "potty candy" from the bathroom, and retreated to his hideaway to devour it in utter secrecy. Aha! Carefully assuming my "stern mommy" face, I step into the kitchen with my hands on my hips. "Caleb, what are you doing?" I watch as my son goes absolutely still, obviously under the misconceived impression that if he doesn't move, I can't see him (has he been watching too much jurrasic park with daddy???). As I begin my descent to his level, my ingenious son quickly realizes his precarious situation, and hastily shoves the remaining stash into his mouth. From here, he looks up at me apologetically as he preforms the sign for 'sorry' in a most convincing manner. I, being the all-knowing mother, have seen this act one too many times and proceed to lovingly and strictly direct my son towards his appropriate punishment. Afterwards, he grins up at me and runs away, mouth still brimming with candy. I sit down on the couch with a sense of wonderment. For despite doing all the right things, I have the uncanny impression that my son has just won the: "Battle for the candy." Oh well, there's always next time right?