There. I said it. I’m a liar. I cannot be trusted. You’ll never know when I’m telling the truth. Because I lie.
Well, at least to my kids I do.
I’m not talking about the little white lies that everyone tells. You know what I’m talking about. Things like, “I don’t have a quarter for the gumball machine” when your purse is so full of change that it leaves a dent in your shoulder due to the sheer weight of the coinage inside. Things like, “Oh, I think the park is closed today” because its summertime in Riverside and it feels like I’m living on the surface of the sun and I’d sooner conquer Mt. Laundr-est than sit at the park and sweat buckets upon buckets of sweat watching my kid’s heads nearly explode from the heat. Things like, “We’re all out of ice cream” when you know darned well there’s enough for one bowl left, that could be split between two boys, but would rather wait for you after everyone scurries off to bed.
You know, things like that.
Everyone tell those little white lies. Right? That’s not what I’m talking about here. I make up some crazy stuff. And what’s sad, is that I do it just for the sheer enjoyment of it.
In my defense, I come by this trait naturally. Next to me, my dad is the biggest liar I know. He used to tell my sisters and I that artichokes were named after a man named Artie who choked on one because he didn’t remove every single one of those prickly strands in the middle. It got stuck in his throat and he died. So, we practically turned into CSI inspectors tweasing every single teeny tiny strand out of our artichoke before we ate the heart. Mean.
You know what else he told us? He told us that the pirates on the ride, Pirates of the Caribbean were shooting guns with real bullets. So, you know that part at the end where there’s a drunk pirate on a barrel that’s so intoxicated that he’s stumbling around aimlessly shooting his gun? My sisters and I would hunch over as far as we could into the boat praying that we wouldn’t get struck by a stray bullet. I remember the feeling of my heart racing when our boat got stuck there once. All the while my dad was cracking up. Awful.
So, don’t judge me. I’m just doing what I’ve been taught.
And my kids can go to therapy, just like I did. Won’t kill ’em.
Here’s some of the lies I’ve told the boys lately:
- When Caden asked what would happen if he hung upside down for too long on the swing set, I told him his head would fall off. He promptly pulled himself upright.
- I’ve told Caden that before he lived with me, he was a baby pirate and one day when Geric and I were at the beach a big pirate ship pulled up to shore and gave him to us in exchange for a buried treasure.
- Jacob was told that he was born in a jungle and lived with a family of monkeys for a while before his monkey family was taken to the zoo. The zookeeper gave him to me, but that’s why the monkeys yell so much when we visit them at the zoo. It’s his “monkey mama” saying hello.
- I’ve told them that there are sugarbugs that live in their teeth and if they don’t brush them away every night, they will eat holes in their teeth. Caden got in trouble one night and was sent straight to bed and was terrified that he was going to wake up looking like a hillbilly. I let him brush. (This one is not that far off from the truth. And it’s a very handy lie, at that.)
- Jacob was born with a skin tag by his right ear. The doctor removed it but there is a still a little bump. Today I told him that when he was born he had a second head and the doctor had to remove it. We kept the cute one.