Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Liar, Liar

{Do you get it? Our pants. They are literally on fire. Okay, just checking.}

Show of hands. Who has, at one point in their lives as parents, told a lie to their children?

If you're not raising your hand and you're telling the truth, I am thoroughly impressed, because mine is going about as high as possible. Now, I'm not talking life-altering fibs, just a little white lie or two to get you through the day:

  • I think Daddy took The Lego Movie out of the car.
  • Sonic is out of tater tots today.
  • That's the last of the Christmas candy.
  • My phone needs to charge.
  • I don't know where your sword is.
  • We'll be there in five minutes.

Then there are the lies parents have passed down through generations. The ones that pour a bit of magic into childhoods. Right around Nathan's sixth birthday, the Tooth Fairy started coming. She'd bring a dollar for every tooth, and even shelled out a couple for the special silver molar, but her visits are slowing. Gone are the days when he actually needed his two front teeth for Christmas. However, he recently yanked one at the dinner table. It was a matter of, "Hey, my tooth feels weird." Then it was in his hand.

Fast forward to that night when we were frantically searching for his little tooth pillow that hadn't been used in months. We found it, tucked in the tooth, and then tucked in the kid. Jonathan and I promptly went about our evening routine of trying to force Owen to sleep and promptly forgot about it. Guess we figured the fairy would handle it.

The following morning a shadowy figure appeared by my husband's side of the bed, and I woke up just enough to hear him utter the words: "Daddy, she forgot."

Jonathan fixed it quickly with the reassurance that we'll write her a letter, and then covered his tracks with the idea that we probably just got home too late. We remedied the situation with a handful of lies and a crisp dollar bill. He was stoked. No one was harmed in the telling of this particular story and my husband and I escaped the guilt that so often comes with the territory. Easy enough, right?

What this instance made me think of, however, is how long we are guaranteed this free pass. How long do we have until we start getting caught in these little lies? Nathan's already tipped off Owen when the phone isn't nearly as dead as we say it is and his learning to tell time has prevented a whole series of bedtime-related fibs. I assume we don't have long, especially with our moral compass of a second-grader. It's probably better to err on the side of practicing what we preach, though, even if a white lie is the quickest means to an end. However, I sure hope the tall tales that weave a little magic into their lives stick around a while.

The Tooth Fairy promised me she will do better next time.

Now, it's your turn. What are some of the white lies you've told your kids to deal with situations on the spot? Can you relate to any of the ones I've shared? Don't worry, your secret's safe with me {unless Nathan the Honest overhears}. Happy Wednesday, y'all!


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2 comments:

Party of Five said...

All. The. Time. And, I love the pants on fire! LOL. Sometimes, I know that mine know I'm lying. I call it parental privilege.

Lisa Floyd said...

I remember when the Tooth Fairy forgot our kids. Turned out she was just running late. By the time they brushed their teeth and used the bathroom she'd arrived. It happens. ;)