Lying – What they think vs. what we know

As parents, we know.They may not know it, but we do.

We know exactly when our kids aren’t being honest or forthcoming with information, and they think they are being sneaky only to be surprised when they discover we truly know.

M, like me as a kid, has a problem with telling my wife and me when he’s done something he ought not to have. A trait, I have to admit he inherited from me. It’s funny how your perception on a situation changes as a parent.

The Parents’ View:

I worked late last night, and got home after midnight (4 hours after my son’s bedtime) to discover my wife working away on the bed with M sleeping next to her. Upon asking my wife how the evening went, I learned that M went to bed on time, but stayed up watching the flat screen built into his bed until 11:30! It is important to note that my wife had caught him around 9:15, turned off the television and confiscated the remotes.

Being the savvy parent I am I don’t want my son to struggle with honesty the way I did growing up. So, I decided long ago that I would give him ample opportunities to be forthcoming with me. This was no exception.

After putting him in his bed and going to sleep, I full expected a challenge rousing him this morning. M woke up right away and began searching for his red bear “Elsie” (which was a gift from his Great Grandma B.). He was “up” but he certainly was tired. His exhaustion was enough natural consequence for both my wife and me, but he still had to confess.

I asked M if he went to bed on time, to which he responded “yes.” At first I felt I was being lied to, then I remembered he did go to bed on time, but he didn’t go to sleep on time. My son being the literalist, I rephrased, and was far more direct… “M, did you go to sleep on time last night, or did you stay up in bed watching movies?”

His response to this was to clutch Elsie tighter, shut his eyes so hard I thought is forehead was going to cave into his eye sockets, and rolled over to face the back of the couch. His actions told me exactly what I wanted to know, but I still wanted him to say it. I asked him again, and received a grunt and watched as the couch further consumed my son.

I decided to threaten with consequences – including removing the television from his submarine bed – and gave him a few minutes to think about it. When I came back, I asked him directly again, and he was honest.

Important Note: He already had his consequence for staying up too late, and I was not levying punishment for that, and only wanted to give him an opportunity to tell me about the good and bad he had done in the past day. I feel it is good for him to have occasional opportunities to tell the truth without consequence of the missteps.

The Child’s View:

When I was in fourth or fifth grade the town I lived in had a renaissance festival. One tent/booth had wooden swords for sale. I was fascinated by them. They were about 2.5 feet long, 3 inches wide, and about ½ inch thick, with rounded, child-friendly edges.

Excited, and under the impression that I could not live without it I rode my 6-speed black mountain bike the 0.6 miles home as fast as my legs could pump. My parents were somewhere, but I “couldn’t find them.” What could I find? A nice roll of dimes sitting on the kitchen window sill above the sink – the exact amount needed.

When I did find my mom, I asked if I could have the green paper-wrapped dimes that were clearly more valuable than a mere $5. She said “no, the money is for groceries.”

Clearly my mom didn’t understand this glorious green tube meant happines. It was, afterall, the only thing holding this young boy back from becoming a knight!

So I did what any logical knight-to-be could, I ran out the door stuffing the ticket to slay dragons into my pocket and sped away on my bike before my parents saw me. I met up with my friend Ben, and we made our way back to purchase the coveted sword.

The keen “blacksmith” remember me and my plump friend from what felt to me like hours before. “Did your parents say it was okay for you to buy this?” I started wondering if my parents had discovered the missing dimes and somehow called this guy who was clearly not as smart as originally thought. “Yes,” I lied, “of course!”

After hours of slaying dragons and pretending I was a knight of the Round Table, I made my way home. When I returned home, my parents were waiting.

“Where did you get the sword,” my mom asked.

I couldn’t tell her the truth. I had already disobeyed and stolen the money, and she can’t possibly know I took it. “Ben’s parents bought it for me,” I lied, believing I was fooling her, but unknowingly digging myself a deeper hole.

“What happened to the roll of dimes?” What a pointed question.

I thought to myself does she know? I don’t think she believes me… she can’t possibly know I’m lying… “I don’t know, did you misplace them?”

Eventually my mom got the truth out of me, and I dejectedly had to return my connection to a world that ceased to exist except in books and reenactments. I’m sure there was more punishment, but I can’t remember what it was.