Not so little white lies: Telling the truth even when it’s hard.

It went a little like this…I was applying my mascara and my three and a half year old was in the shower behind me. As I do daily, I was explaining what was going to happen that day and said “…after breakfast we’re going to church”. Usually this is great news, but he’s three, so that day it was as if I had told him we’d be cutting off his right arm. “I no go to church!” followed by foot-stomping, screaming, even kicking the door. Screams continued as I turned the water off and wrestled him dry. “I no want you dry me off!” followed by more foot-stomping and the like. It continued through each phase of the next many minutes – underwear, socks, pants, he wanted nothing to do with any of it. At which point, I said “we have to put clothes on to go to church – or they won’t let us in”.

As the words rolled off my tongue I was instantly aware of the line I had just crossed. I mean, it’s likely that they would ask us to cover up our naked kiddo when we brought him in, but I’m fairly certain they would let us through the door. Maybe you have had this happen to you. A battle over wearing shoes triggered you to tell a little white lie? A tantrum over leaving brought on a tall tale? A request for more cookies caused a fib about how many were really left? (Note: this applies to threats as well – threats you don’t/can’t/won’t follow-through count as lies as well).

Of course, rarely does a parent mean to lie to their children, but somehow we get caught between a rock and a crazed toddler and we lose our patience, and our ability to think through the long term value of telling the truth. You see, it takes more time. It takes more thought. It takes intention.

Here’s another example…

Him: Mama, whatchu eatin’?

Me: (with a mouthful of donut) Nuthin’

or

Me: Mama saved a little donut for her snack and she was finishing it up now.

Might the latter cause a fit? You betcha.  It’s easier to lie, and in my moment of weakness I totally gave into the temptation that morning.  Ultimately I apologized to him and told him the reasons we need to wear clothes, and despite his desire to live like a frat boy in his underwear all the time, he gave in. There will be other times that he doesn’t give in. There may be a day that we choose to stay home because he won’t put pants on – and it will be ok. We’ll survive the missed birthday party, the wasted trip to the park, or anything else that he spoils with his disobedience. We’ll survive because I’m willing to take the time to tell him the truth, to give him the opportunity to process it, make a choice based on accurate information, and experience the consequences.

You might even be surprised at how they take the truth. So far, I’ve actually had great success with the following statement: “Because God gave me the job of being your mama that means that I am responsible to help you choose what is best for you until you can choose it for yourself.  For today, it is best for you to ______ so that you are _____ and can ______.”

So, what about Santa? Or what happens when our cat dies? Good questions. We’ve already begun slowly preparing him for the truth about those situations, a little bit at a time because I want him to trust me today and I want him to trust me someday. I will protect him by preparing him for, not shielding him from reality because I want to be sure he knows that the world goes on spinning despite his strong preferences and specific opinions.  

And even though I believe that the sun does not revolve around him I also believe that he’s worth my discomfort, he’s worth the anguish of having to tell him one hundred times, and he’s worth holding while he screams about the consequences, because he is fiercely loved.  He three, and the tantrums won’t last forever (thank goodness!) but he’ll be thirty in just a few long blinks.  As for me, I’ll play for the long game.