Every parent lies to their kid and that is a fact. But I like to think of it as acting. In my humble opinion, if any casting agent witnessed the performances I’ve turned in to my kid, they’d have me on Broadway, Motion Pictures, maybe even Netflix! When I read “Car, Car, Truck, Jeep” for the five hundredth time, I still pretend like it’s my first. Boy Wonder watched me pee in the toilet the other day and was so inspired that he took off his diaper and peed on the floor next to the toilet. I couldn’t help but cheer him on. Some call it encouragement but I say it’s better than Shakespeare.
A friend of mine has my contact information saved into her phone as the one and only Santa Claus. Her six year old son knows Mom has Santa on speed dial and the possibility that she might place a long distance call to the North Pole is enough to scare him into behaving most of the time. But once or twice there’s been an evening where I’ve seen my friend’s picture pop up on my phone screen. I’ll look at the clock and realize that it must be toddler bed time. So, per our unspoken agreement, Santa answers the phone and lays down the law. Nothing scary, just a quick “Hey. How are you? Mind your mother. See you in 212 days. ” We say goodnight and later on I’ll get a thank you text.
We won’t get away with that forever. Even Boy Wonder is starting to suspect the jolly old fat man. When Bex brought him out for a visit this past year, our son lit up and yelled “Daddy!”. Busted. Eventually, children start questioning these ridiculous lies. I just hope that he starts lying to me about believing in Santa a couple years after he stops. That’s what I did. The rule in our house was “If you don’t believe in Santa then you don’t get any presents”. I couldn’t risk something important like that.
I’m not proud of the lies I tell my son. Some times they are completely self-serving.
“Sorry buddy. You ate all the cookies. There’s no more.”
And then a tantrum ensues. I confess, it was me that ate the damn cookies but don’t tell Boy Wonder. I had to tell three other lies to distract him.
“Do you want ice cream?” – We have no ice cream.
“Do you want to go to the park?” – But there’s an Angels game on. It’s okay, I’ll take him later.
“Mommy!” I plead. “Mommy has the cookies! Go find her. She’ll give you all the cookies.”
While he runs off to find Mommy, with a big smile on his face, I sneak out the front door with my tail between my legs. There’s no way I’m going to stick around for him to expose me as the liar I am. Besides, I have another Oscar’s acceptance speech to write.