Years ago, when Oldest was about four years old, he was doing something he wasn't supposed to do--and he knew he wasn't supposed to be doing it. But, since my back was turned, he thought he could get away with it. I don't remember what it was, but I told him exactly what he was doing and that he had to stop. He just stared at me in open-mouthed shock.
"How did you know?" he said.
I shrugged and said "I just know."
"But how did you know?" Translation: how could you have known?
The gears were working hard in his head, and I almost told him the truth: I could hear everything he was doing, and I know him really well so I know the things he's likely to do. Plus, there's that sixth-Mom-sense you somehow get after your kids are born, and it hasn't failed me yet. But I didn't tell him all this. Instead, a wicked grin came over me and I said "I have eyes in the back of my head."
Oldest didn't believe me, of course, and we had a great debate about how it's impossible for me to see out the back of my head because my hair was in the way. I finally ended up saying that the eyes were magic and can see through anything, but he just can't see them. He never did believe me, but he does believe that I can somehow know what he's doing even if I'm not looking at him. Even if I'm not in the room. He still hasn't figured it out, but it's very amusing to watch him try.
Youngest, however, is so accepting of everything. The other day, he was sitting at the kitchen island drawing a picture while I was getting dinner ready. He told me not to look because he wanted it to be a surprise, so I promised I wouldn't look and kept going about my dinner preparations. But Youngest wouldn't let it go.
"Mommy, you can't look! It's supposed to be a surprise."
"Okay, sweetie. I promise I won't look." I turned around so that my back was to him and said "See? I'm not looking now."
"But, you have eyes in the back of your head!"
I nearly fell over laughing. :)