How to get my son to Confess

Oh it really is never fair to be the oldest child. 

I know. I am one.

Whenever I hear Hadley crying, inevitably it must have been Trent.

My voice echoes through the house, "TrEEEEEnt! What did you dooooo?!?"

Trent softly replies, every time, with, 

"Hadley's okay."

"Trent. What did you do?"

"Hadley's okay mom."

"Trent, say sorry to Hadley."

Trent looks into Hadley's eyes. "I'm sorry Hadley for taking my firetruck and hitting it in your eye right there."

(And thus I got my confession. Works EVERY time. And is just as entertaining every time.)

"Trent? What did you do?"

"Hadley's okay."

"What did you do?"

"Hadley's okay mom."

"Say sorry to Hadley."

"I'm sorry Hadley for going like this (Trent starts rotating his torso from the hip and flailing his arms back and forth like a helicopter, hands in fists.)"

(So that's what he did. Bite tongue. Try really hard to laugh.)

"Say sorry to Hadley."

"I'm sorry Hadley for taking your cat and throwing it on the porch."

"I'm sorry Hadley for hitting you with my blanket really fast."

"I'm sorry Hadley for taking your cheese and putting it in the corner over there."

I wonder how long my strategic conversational detective work will last.

At least in this picture she's trying to make some space for herself in Trent's world.