time out
The easy lie
A mom wrestles with the complex nature of truth-telling LEA HANSON
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he first lie I told my child was with the best of intention. She had a fire safety lesson that included a fire drill at her pre-school and was traumatized. Her teachers said that she was scared and cried the entire tine. She was in tears most of the afternoon and evening. For days she was obsessed with talking about our house burning down. She asked over and over whether we had working smoke detectors. She had multiple bad dreams. She was very worried. She was not comforted with any true story. The fact that we had smoke detectors in the home did not soothe her. She was not calmed in knowing her dad and I would race to her aid in any dangerous situation. She was legitimately anxious and nothing made her feel better. Then, one day, I told her our house was painted in special paint that protected it from burning and BAM! Not only did she believe me but also she felt much better and safer. It wasn’t a predetermined lie; I didn’t plan it out. It just came out of my mouth one day…and it worked. In hindsight, it was the gateway lie. Now, in general I’m not that parent who relates to all of those lists of ‘the things my childfree self said before having children’ and how none of them are really true now that I’m a parent. I mean, my kid gets almost no screen time, she eats what we serve her for meals, and we’re pretty consistent disciplinarians. But, evidently, I am also kind of a liar. Since the gateway lie, it’s like I can’t stop. I am amazed by how easy it is and how gullible my child can be. “Mom, did you leave onions off my part of the pizza?” “Yes, of course I did!” Lie: you can’t even taste them. “Mom! Why can’t we get ice cream?!” “Because the store is closed.” Lie: you won’t get angry if you think this is true. “MOM! How did all 40
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this art from school get into the recycle bin?!” “Oh no! I must have put it there by accident.” Lie: I throw away 75 percent of your art. Note: I don’t think lying is okay. I almost never lie to other people. And—for the record—when I do it’s for a “normal” reason that anyone would lie about like, “No, you don’t look fat in that dress.” So why is lying to a kid okay in my mind? At best, I there’s incongruence; at worst, I’m a hypocrite. Neither of those things feels good to me. Is it just because it’s easy? I mean, she believes in magic, fire-proof paint so
lying? I don’t think so—I really think I tell the truth because it’s honest and the right thing to do. And, interestingly enough, we talk about honesty a lot in our house and I think my kid has a pretty good grasp of what’s the truth and what’s a lie. To further muddy the waters, my kid lies. Sometimes elaborate tales, even. But, isn’t that normal for a 4-year-old? Just the other night she told a detailed story about how at school she had worked hard and long to make a beautiful picture and another kid came and grabbed it from
clearly she’ll believe anything. Is it because I’m being a lazy parent who knows my kid will simply shrug it off when she thinks Walrus Ice Cream is closed but will whine and cry her face off if I say no to going? And, here’s something else: When will my child start knowing I am lying? Do I not lie to adults simply because I know they’ll know I’m
her hand and threw it right in the garbage. We don’t need to go into the details on why I’m pretty sure this is made up, but long story short, I’m almost certain it is. Don’t think I can’t see the wheels turning. Lying breeds lying, and no wonder my child does it, right? Maybe so. But I think it’s more complicated than that. I’ll let you know in a year or so.