Tuesday, November 18, 2003
The lies we tell
In general, I don't lie to my kids, and I don't think parents in general should lie to their kids.
But there's one lie I tell frequently. Because kids can't handle the truth, and the truth is, I don't know if I can handle the truth, either.
Whenever we're leaving the kids anywhere -- home with a baby sitter, even in Sunday school for an hour -- we always say, "Remember -- Mommy and Daddy always come back."
It's a lie, of course. We tell it not only to reassure our kids but also to make ourselves feel better … about our intentions. About the odds. About the bizarrely, randomly lethal twists of life.
Because, as all grownups and quite a few kids know, sometimes Mommy and Daddy don't always come back.
And I'm not just talking about the dad who leaves for work one morning and never comes home, leaving not so much as a forwarding address, or the mom who runs off to find herself/find someone worthy of her affection/join the circus.
I'm also talking about the mom who wakes up one morning and finds a lump too big and too far gone to treat, the dad with the heart condition so disguised that its first symptom is sudden death. The mom who strokes out over morning coffee, the dad who absentmindedly runs a red light and catches a semi in his driver's door.
But there's no way to hold a rational discussion about subjects like that with a young child. If you're a parent, you might not be able to discuss them rationally even with another adult.
And so we repeat to ourselves and our kids the comforting words … as a lie.
And as a prayer.
But there's one lie I tell frequently. Because kids can't handle the truth, and the truth is, I don't know if I can handle the truth, either.
Whenever we're leaving the kids anywhere -- home with a baby sitter, even in Sunday school for an hour -- we always say, "Remember -- Mommy and Daddy always come back."
It's a lie, of course. We tell it not only to reassure our kids but also to make ourselves feel better … about our intentions. About the odds. About the bizarrely, randomly lethal twists of life.
Because, as all grownups and quite a few kids know, sometimes Mommy and Daddy don't always come back.
And I'm not just talking about the dad who leaves for work one morning and never comes home, leaving not so much as a forwarding address, or the mom who runs off to find herself/find someone worthy of her affection/join the circus.
I'm also talking about the mom who wakes up one morning and finds a lump too big and too far gone to treat, the dad with the heart condition so disguised that its first symptom is sudden death. The mom who strokes out over morning coffee, the dad who absentmindedly runs a red light and catches a semi in his driver's door.
But there's no way to hold a rational discussion about subjects like that with a young child. If you're a parent, you might not be able to discuss them rationally even with another adult.
And so we repeat to ourselves and our kids the comforting words … as a lie.
And as a prayer.
