According to Dictionary.Com a tattletale is defined as
– noun
1. a talebearer or informer, esp. among children (see image below)
– adjective
2. telltale; revealing: a tattletale smear of lipstick on his collar.
and after this brief description, there is this photo:
Seriously. Mo is a world-class tattler. She approaches it like it’s her job, and I guess, when you are 3 1/2 years old, that’s what your job is. Sunup to sundown, day in and day out, nothing is too lofty or too lowly that does not get snitched back to me.
I know who isn’t sharing and who isn’t. I know who didn’t wash their hands after using the bathroom and who broke wind without saying excuse me. I know who is putting crayons in their mouth and who has their fingers in their nose. Children and grown-ups alike — there has never been a better case for minding your manners when Mo Dizz is in town.
Mo’s favorite subject to snitch on is, of course, her sister. Oh, the tattles I get about what Co is or isn’t doing at any particular minute. And they usually start like this:
Mo: Um, excuse me, Mommy?
Me: Yes, Mo. What is it?
Mo: Um, well, Co isn’t. . .
Me: (interrupting) Wait a second. Are you about to tattle?
Mo: Well. No. Excuse me Mommy. I have to tell you something.
Me: Oh really?
Mo: Well. . .I’ll be right back.
And off she goes to keep tabs on whomever else is in close proximity. On the one hand, I want her to know that she can come and tell me things, especially if she, Co, or their friends are doing something dangerous. But on the other hand, most of her updates are for minor things that, while irritating (like when Co dumps all the crayons on the floor), aren’t earth shattering. So, how do we deal with this?
I’ve told Mo that there are some things she needs to speak up about — knives, matches, sticking your fingers in outlets, pushing and shoving, etc. — and somethings that are better left unsaid. I’ve also told her that if she and Co are getting into it, they need to try to work it out before she comes to lay her tale of sisterly injustice at my feet.
So now, here’s what we get:
Mo: Um, excuse me, Mommy? I have to tell you something.
Me: Yes, Mo.
Mo: Um, well. . .
Me: You aren’t going to tattle now, are you?
Mo: Well. No, but Mommy, somebody isn’t sharing the crayons with me.
She is really making me earn this Mother of the Year award.
