I lie to my kids all the time. I know I’m not supposed to lie. I teach my kids not to lie. But it’s impossible to navigate the murky and treacherous waters of parenting without inserting a doozie of a fib every once in a while.
I’m not talking about the little white lies we tell to ease the pain of a lost pet (“Pumpkin ran off and got married.”) or calm the anxiety of a worried little one on the way to the doctor. Or, the ones that make their worlds fun: like certain holiday visitors.
Every parent stretches the truth when it comes to how long five minutes is or what the consequences are if you cross your eyes for too long. These are all just “givens” in the big parenting book. What I’m talking about here are flat-out whoppers that are told in the hope of getting our kids to do what we want them to do. Lies that take death-defying leaps away from reality but ultimately, we believe, will benefit our children.
My biggest and longest-running lie revolved around the culinary delight we all know as the grilled cheese sandwich, my favorite food in the whole wide world! My daughter didn’t like them, and I wanted to add grilled cheese to the repertoire of items she would eat.
One day, after once again refusing a grilled cheese, I asked her if she wanted me to make her a very special sandwich – a “camp sandwich.” Now usually, I explained, the camp sandwich can only be eaten while outdoors, next to an open fire. But I told her I could, “just this once,” make her a camp sandwich. Because now she really wanted one, I broke the rules and made her the perfect camp sandwich.
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