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I just lied to my child.
It was a big, fat, juicy lie, and I have no remorse.
Here’s how it went down:
Grace: “Momma, do you like fish?”
Me: “It’s okay. It’s not my favorite food, but I eat it once in a while because your dad likes it.”
Grace: “I hate it. I will never, ever eat a bite of fish in my whole life. Because I hate fish.”
Meanwhile, there was a huge chunk of cornmeal-crusted tilapia on her plate, along with some garlic roasted chicken and steamed carrots.
Me: “I know you hate fish. That’s why your dad would never give you any fish. How’s your chicken, by the way? Is it delicious?”
I didn’t blink.
There was no catch in my throat.
I had not even a glimmer of guilt.
Grace: “It isn’t delicious, but it’s okay. It’s not my favorite food, but I’ll eat it because it’s not fish.”
Me: “Okay then. As long as you eat it.”
Grace: “I like it. It tastes like chicken nuggets even though it’s a big piece of chicken.”
I wanted to laugh out loud and tell her that it wasn’t chicken at all! It was a big piece of fish!
But I didn’t.
Because I wanted her to continue eating.
And because I wanted her to continue trusting me.
I’m actually surprised that the ruse held up. Grace’s fish looked just like my fish and Allie’s fish and Joe’s fish. It was clearly (to me) fish. It tasted like fish and smelled like fish and looked like fish and had the consistency of fish.Even though I’m a big liar.
Me: “It looks like your chicken is really juicy and tender. Daddy did a really nice job with that.”
I just couldn’t help myself.
Grace: “Yeah, it is. His chicken isn’t usually this tender and juicy. It’s really good.”
She waved a giant bite of tilapia towards me.
Grace: “Don’t you wish Daddy had made chicken for you instead of fish?”
Me: “Yeah, kinda.”
I kept bringing up the chicken because I was laughing like a hyena inside. She ate most of it, and she never knew the difference.
She may have figured out Santa Clause, but I am still the boss.
What lies do you tell your children?
© 2013, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.