Somebody's got Daddy's Number

A few days ago when Ben and I were swimming after his swim lessons, I noticed him doing something that I didn't want him to do anymore.
So I asked him, "Ben, do you need to go potty? You keep grabbing yourself."

"No."

"Ok," I said, "but if I see you grabbing yourself again, we'll go and sit on the toilet."

"Ok." And he made a very obvious effort for the first few seconds and then seemed fine.

About 2 minutes later, I thought I saw him grabbing at himself in the classic "potty dance" kind of way and so I asked him, since I wasn't sure.

"No, I'm not, Dad," he said as I noticed that he was continuing to do it obviously.

"Aw Ben, this is so sad. You lied to me about that so now we're going home."

This wasn't too traumatic because he unsurprisingly just about burst before we got to the toilet in the locker room. He didn't say much about it while we showered and got dressed, so I wasn't sure if he'd really comprehended that the consequence was no more swimming. So on the drive home, I just casually mentioned it.

"That was really sad that we had to leave the swimming pool early because you lied to me."

"Ya it was, Dad," he said very nonchalantly, "but I'm just ready to go home and see Momma some."

I got the distinct feeling I'd just been had.