Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

I'm folding laundry in the bedroom. Owen is playing in his "train room" (aka the oversized laundry room which is now serving double-duty). Owen walks into the bedroom and declares, "I didn't color on the floor." I ignore this statement because I am certain that this is a giant lie, and quite honestly I just don't feel like disciplining right now. Charlotte is asleep downstairs, Owen's usual time-out spot is dangerously close to her room, and dang it, I just want to finish folding the clothes. But he is persistent. "Mom, that room is a MESS." Resignation. "Why don't you show me." As we walk to the laundry room, Owen covers his ears with his hands. This is the second time he has done this. I suppose he thinks I'm going to explode, which is interesting because I'm not really the exploding type. But as we enter the room I realize that Owen was being honest, he really had not colored on the floor, the room was indeed a MESS, and his ear covering was once again done in vain. I suppose I would have known he was telling the truth if I had just looked at him during his coloring declaration. You see, Owen always looks up when he lies. Not just a slight, sneaky glance up. Oh no, his eyes are as far up as they can possibly go. I've heard that all people usually do something with their eyes when they lie, but who would have thought that it started at three?? Hopefully he will hold onto this handy tell for many years to come.