“I’ll believe it when I see it!”
As a child, I became familiar with that expression. It might have had something to do with my walking into the house with muddy sneakers for the billionth time. Or my incessant insistence from the backseat of the station wagon that my sister was on my side — she crossed the line! At times like these, my mother would give me a look and offer a well-earned corrective. Before the bench of maternal justice, I’d offer guaranteed forecasts of better behavior. The Judge looked hopeful, if unconvinced.