I may be young, but I’m old enough to know when your lying.
Adults seem to think (or at least most adults I know), that children are entirely gullible creatures, with no sense of what is the truth, and what is fantasy. And in some cases, when we are young this is true. But don’t try to pull the same lies ten years later when I very well know that broccoli won’t make me fly.
Lying to your kids can have detrimental effects in the future. Let’s take into account the tooth fairy problem. When I was 7 I lost my third tooth. In a fit of hurried excitement, I raced down the stairs, briefly yelled at my mom that I had ripped my tooth out of my bleeding gums, and ran back upstairs. I dove into bed (it was 2 o’clock in the afternoon) and shoved my tooth under my pillow. After an hour my mom coaxed me out of my bed with the promise of cookies and explained to me that the tooth fairy only operates at night. I grudgingly dragged myself through the day, eating my dinner and playing in the park. That night I could hardly sleep for excitement. When I did finally fall asleep my dreams were full of fairies, and candy. When I woke up the next morning, I reached underneath my pillow, expecting to find a quarter, or a piece of candy, only to come up empty. My tooth was still there as well. I ran into my mom’s room, yelling that surely I had done something horrible. After all, no sensible child with a tooth to offer would be spurned by that holiest of criminals, the tooth fairy. My mom explained that the tooth fairy must have simply forgotten and that I should go back to sleep, as it was 5 in the morning. I did as she asked. Not ten minutes after my revelation, I felt a hand slipping under my pillow. Convinced that a small pixie-like creature had come for my tooth, I turned expecting to see a glowing light or something of the sort. Alas, it was just my mother, expecting me to be asleep. I stared at her malice in my eyes. “Hello, mother”,” I said, “do you have something to tell me?” I used to enjoy pretending to be Lex Luthor, so I sat up and began to stroke my stuffed white cat plush, bought specifically for the occasion when I could pretend to be a malicious evil genius thirsting for blood. She broke down and told me everything. There wasn’t really an ancient fairy that broke into our home to steal my discarded bone fragments. I was devastated. Mainly because my mom had been lying to me my entire life. There seems to be this double standard when comes to children and lying. Adults are expected, even encouraged to lie to their children, whereas if a child lies to you, they are punished. Tell me how is telling your child that a fat old man who delivers toys breaks into your home once a year, by entering through the chimney any different than lying about who ate the last cookie in the jar. I am aware that lying about misbehaving shouldn’t be rewarded. but I think that adults underestimate how much a kid can take. when I was 6, I had a pet caterpillar named Lord Henry Frumplekins Chandelier the Third. after two weeks someone stepped on him. my parents told me he had turned into a butterfly and had flown away to Costa Rica, and that I couldn’t visit until I was 17. I eventually figured out that Henry was no longer suffering from caterpillar hood. I honestly would have preferred that my parents had just told me he died. it would have A saved them a ton of questions and harassment from me, and B it wouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. Sometimes it is better to tell your kid the truth. we can take more than you think.