The other day just after I posted on Facebook that my youngest announced that boogers are not good snacks, I saw an article on the news saying that most parents lie to their children. You know, white lies like the pool is closed when the parent is too lazy to pack the sun screen, swim suits, snacks and so on, then gathering all the kids and maybe a friend or two into the vehicle. It turns out that if it a lie is meant to protect the child, it’s okay, but not if it’s like the swimming pool lie. The child ends up not trusting the one who lies.
Apparently, I am viewed as a very smart, honest mother, who knows what she is talking about (phsssh) with my crafty lies. I’m not one to lie to her kids… well, not that much, and I like to think that I am the good type of liar, you know, to protect my kids. So, the booger comment actually was a product of my lies. He had an awful habit of the snack and knew that it bothered me and often would do it to get a reaction from me. I found a perfect opportunity to argue my case when for some reason, probably a virus, he vomited. I told him, “see, you must have picked your nose!”. Not totally agreeing, he continued his habit until it happened again, and I said the same thing. Now, he believes me and the habit is over.
His nose picking habit is done, but he is on to new ones, and I continue lying. Just yesterday he spent quite a bit of time playing games on the computer. Silly me, without thinking, I blurted out, “It’s not good for you to play on the computer all day long, your brain will rot”. As soon as I said it, I knew it was probably not the best way to go about it, especially when I saw the fear on his face.
“You are joking, right mom?” he asked, and I promptly agreed. You see, when I get caught in a lie, I call it a joke or an attempt to trick someone so that I don’t appear to be that dishonest. Good, right?
Later, in the evening, he became quite miserable with a headache and a fever; he had come down with yet another virus. When his father got home from work, he found his son vegging out on the floor, an unusual thing for him to do, and asked him what was wrong. “My brain is rotten” was his answer.
I had some explaining to do.