The Lies We Tell

Generally speaking I'd say I'm an honest person.  I might tell the occasional fib, something along the lines of, "that dress doesn't make you look like a prostitute" or "I have a really bad headache, can you put the baby to bed?" But lying has risen to a whole new level with the arrival of toddlerhood.

Now there are good lies: Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.  And then there are the bad lies that I've started to tell: if you don't stop running around and let me change your diaper your buns are gonna fall off.  That one actually made me almost feel bad, until she just looked at me like I was ridiculous and proceeded to run around the kitchen.  I also told her that if she draws on her clothes with markers that the marker fairy will come and take them away.  In an effort to get her to go to sleep I told her that if she stopped fussing and lay down that in the morning she could have ice cream for breakfast...thank goodness she forgot about that one.

So I guess it shouldn't surprise me that she's turning into quite the little liar herself!  I could smell her diaper stink from clear across the room and I'll ask her if she pooped and she'll look dead in my face and say no.  I'll see her drawing on her clothes again (because apparently she's not afraid of the marker fairy) and I'll tell her to stop and she'll say, "I'm not drawing on my shirt."  And the other day she told my mom that I punched her in the nose and gave her a boo boo, which is obviously untrue.  Filthy little liar!

I could take the high road and say I'll stop lying.  But that would be untrue.

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