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Do You Remember the First Time You Lied to Your Kid? I Do.
Harmless falsehoods are easier, but difficult questions deserve difficult answers
My daughter was three months old the first time I lied to her. I pressed my mouth against her ear and whispered that I wished I could keep breastfeeding, but the doctor had said it was time to switch to formula. The last part was true; the doctor did tell me to switch to formula. But I didn’t regret the change; that part was a lie. I was relieved to the point of tears when I finally got permission to pull her from my malfunctioning breasts.
It was a weird time to lie. She was an infant and couldn’t understand me. But I was navigating the realization that much of parenthood is acting as the medium through which your kids discover the difficulties of reality. Somehow, whispering a false wish felt like it would make a bitter thing sweeter.
In the years since, lots of my lying has been born of bitter moments. I never thought it would be like this — I thought telling my kids the truth would be the easy part of parenthood. I mean, it’s the truth! I don’t have to invent it; I just have to be good at handing it out. Kids, here’s your daily dose of truth. Take it with your vitamins.
We use lies to stop tantrums, create…
