The other day I realized just what a master manipulator my first-going-on-second grader is becoming. Just like dear old Dad. I don’t know if I should be incredibly proud of my progeny, or increasingly suspicious and wary.

He had asked me if we’d be going on vacation this summer. I thought Jersey Shore jaunts. I thought Vegas trips. I thought Orlando vacations. And I hedged a little. We just put an expensive addition on the house. We have a newborn to tote along. Just how much fun are we going to have for a couple nights locked in a room with a baby crying all night, and locked in to her nursing schedule all day?

“We could go to Lake George again,” he suggested. Back to the same hotel we enjoyed last summer with the great indoor pool (including waterslide) and free breakfast. And we could go to the Magic Forest again. Of course, the Magic Forest. the classic Lake George kiddie park with dozens of rides of the St. Someone of the Something Catholic Church Italian Festival variety.

Pretty cool, actually. We had a lot of fun there last year. But when he mentioned it I wondered aloud if he wasn’t getting too old for the Magic Forest. His little brother is at the perfect age for these rides, but an almost-second-grader. Didn’t he think he would be bored?

He threw his hands out to the sides and adopted a truly flabbergasted expression. With some exaggeration he said, “Dad, are you kidding. You think I’d be bored? No way.”

He shook his head in wonder. Could his old man really be that clueless? “That place is just awesome!”

It was an a performance for the Academy. No lie. This kid is going to be trouble. Serious trouble. A conniving, manipulative, silver-tongued little devil. A true bs artist.

Just like his Pop.