Mom has bionic eyes

The “I can take my clothes off all by myself stage had arrived. All the books on bringing up baby did not prepare me. I gasped, “Well laa, dee, daa!”
I paused. “I think you better put your clothes back on.
For a while laa-dee-daas were the fashion of the pre-school crowd.
The last time they disrobed, I was cleaning house downstairs while they played quietly upstairs.
Too quietly, I didn’t bother to go check and see what they were doing. I simply hollered up the stairs, “you get your clothes on!”
I heard one whisper, “She has bionic eyes!” as they scrambled for their clothes.
I wish I had had bionic eyes the morning I started to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I opened the cupboard, took out the flour, brown and white sugar, the shortening and baking soda and reached for the chocolate chips.
No chocolate chips.
I moved a few things around on the shelf to see if I could find them.” Has anyone seen the chocolate chips? I was going to make cookies, but I can’t find them.”
There was an ominous silence.
“I wonder what could have happened to them. I know I had enough left for another batch of cookies.”
I started to make something else when an eager four-year-old announced, “I found them.”
“You did?” I bent down to his height. “Where are they?”
“I’ll show you,” he tugged and led me to the coat closet under the stairs.
He disappeared way in the back where the winter boots were stored. I had to get down on my hands and knees to reach anything in that part of the closet.
“Right here,” he reached inside a boot, pulled out a nearly empty sack of chocolate chips and came out looking very pleased with himself.
“I wonder how they got back there, from the kitchen cupboard?”
He shrugged.
I got down to his level, looked him long and hard in the eye, “Next time, ask.”
Although chocolate chips still begin disappearing minutes after I open a package, they’ve never returned to the closet again.
The pre-schoolers grew up, left home and returned for Thanksgiving.
Friday after work, I was talking on the phone when they burst into the house after a day in town, “Where’s Nate?” they had a certain mischievous air about them.
“Isn’t he with you?”
“He said he would walk to your office and catch a ride home with you.”
“Well I didn’t see him. He must still be in town,” I hung up. “We can go get him now.” My newest in-love looked at me, “Aren’t you worried about him, Momsie?”
“No, he lives at college, he knows how to take care of himself.”
As I headed for the garage, they exploded, “We were just fooling. He was asked to work this evening.”
“OK,” I hung the keys back up.
“How could you be so calm, Momsie?”
“Because I saw you all giggling. Didn’t you know I have bionic eyes?”
She didn’t believe me, so I told her when I had acquired them. If she joins my sons and daughter in trying any more tricks like that. I’ll make a believer out of her yet.