Pants on Fire

Parents lie to their kids. I mean, like all the time, right? I’m just getting hip to this, and it is pretty sweet. Oh yeah, sure, we’ll go to the playground, go for ice cream and then feed the ducks. Right after your nap, buddy.

But it’s so much more than just empty promises! Parents can (and do) lie about all kinds of shit. Some for good reason, some by necessity and some for our own amusement. Witness:

Bub woke up crying, way early this morning. Like two hours early. So I stumbled in, got him out of the crib. He dragged his bankie all the way out into the living room, his face just a moist, amorphous blurble of tears, snot and drool. He walked out to find the lights out, the sun just barely creeping over the horizon, quiet stillness all around.

I played it cool, explaining to him in a very low, wave-lapping cadence that everyone was asleep. Even Daddy.

“This is all a dream, Bub,” I purred. “We’re just sleepwalking right now. You want to go back to bed?”

“Light on,” he sniffled, pointing to the few pesky sunrays peeking in the window.

“No, the light’s off, Bub. It’s too early,” I said. “That’s just a reflection of the moon. Off of Mars.”

“Sun on!” he insisted.

“No, Bub, Daddy’s gonna turn the sun off. I’ll turn it back on later.”

“Play Wii?” he said, trying a new tack.

“No, Bub, the Wii’s not working.” Could have been true.

“Play…play toys?” he said, desperation showing through. Man, he just wouldn’t let it drop. Then I loosed the real crusher.

“I’m sorry, Bub, but your toys are still sleeping.” Ouch. I felt about three seconds of guilt.

“Okay, bed?” he said. Oh, well if that’s what you really want, Bub, etc. Guilt absolved. Lies justified. Two hours sleep recovered. Lying rules.