I would recognize that guilty look anywhere.

“What’s going on in here?” I asked Sean. My seven year old was sitting silently on the chair pretending like nothing was going on.

“Nothing,” he said.

He subtly tried to cover the television remote with a nearby blanket.

“Were you watching TV?” I asked.

“No,” he lied.

“It’s OK,” I said. “You can tell me the truth. Were you watching TV?”

He lowered his eyes and nodded.

“That’s not a big deal,” I said. “You can watch TV if you’re all ready to go.”

He was dressed. He had eaten breakfast. He had brushed his teeth. His backpack was leaning against the front door, ready to go. I didn’t see what the problem was.

“I don’t want to,” he said. Again, that guilty expression on his face was unmistakable.

“What were you watching?” I asked.

“NOTHING!” he screamed.

I reached for the remote.

“NO, DAD! DON’T!” he screamed.

“Were you watching one of the pay movie channels or something?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Well, then what’s the big deal?” I asked.

I clicked the remote and he squealed in protest. “NO, DAD, NO!”

As soon as I saw the image on the screen I understood. He fell to his knees at my feet, his hands clasped together in praying position.

“Please don’t tell Tommy & Johnny,” he said. “Pleeeeeeeeease. Please don’t tell them.”

“You know,” I said, desperately trying to keep a straight face, “there’s nothing wrong with watching Dora.”

“But Dora’s for girls,” he said from his knees, his hands still clasped together.

“That’s not true,” I said. “Your brothers watched Dora occasionally when they were younger.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really.”

Sean got up, and began to run out of the room. I called after him before he could turn the corner.

“And if I hear you making fun of them for that,” I said, “I’ll tell them you were watching it too.”

He stopped in tracks. He turned around and looked at me. Sure enough, that evil grin was right where I thought it would be.

“Darn,” he said.

Watch it, kid. I know you better than you know yourself.

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