Liar Pants

Don't worry. I'm not about to brag about my daughter's astronomical GPA. Or her supermodel good looks. Her hall of fame athleticism. Or her selfless devotion to those less fortunate. 

Sure, she's bright and pretty, sporty and kind. And, I do post as many proud moments on Facebook as the next mom. (Maybe more. Okay, more.) But, I'm not blind to my offspring's shortcomings.

For example, she is an utterly terrible liar.

I mean it, she's really really bad at it. Really bad.

And that's a really (really really) good thing.

When she was very little, I was traveling with colleagues to see some clients. One was the father of two girls slightly older than mine. The other didn't have any children. He listened to some of our stories (it was a long business trip) and shuddered. "I can't imagine having kids," he said. "It sounds so hard." Then, after a moment he shrugged and said, "I guess the main thing is never to lie to them."

The other parent and I almost choked on our airport coffee.

"Oh nooooooo," I exaggerated laughing, "We neverrrrrr lie to them."

"Never never," laughed my colleague.

"Never never never," I agreed, "Except ... like, always."

There are the standard, society-supported fictions. You know, Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy. Then there are the situational ones: "I'm sorry, honey, Ben and Jerry's ran out of chocolate ice cream." Or, "Boo Boo Kitty went away to cat sleepover camp." 

Or, "It isn't whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game." 

Hmmmm. Yeah, that rings true in the adult world, doesn't it? 

Not.

Anyway, children grow up surrounded by lies — well-meaning lies mainly, but lies nonetheless. Then they start telling them. Some at a younger age than others. I was at a board meeting yesterday and heard about someone's daughter who, at a mere two-and-a-half, has already effectively pulled the wool over her daycare teacher's eyes. "Why is she wet?" her mother asked when she picked her up. "Oh," she was assured, "She sat in a puddle. She told me so." 

You can probably fill in the rest of the blanks.

Did I mention the little tale-teller is two-and-a-half? Oh boy!

Meanwhile, my daughter, at seventeen, is still a fairly flimsy fabricator. Her powers of deception are not as keen as they might be.

And I am glad on't.

Just last week, I sent her off to her job at the stable with a container of yogurt and a plastic spoon. It was a rather desperate attempt to get her to eat something, anything, in the morning other than a chocolate chip muffin. She returned home with a tragic tale of grief and loss. The yogurt, alas, did not fare well on the journey. By the time she got to work, it was melted and warm and not good. She sighed with resignation. The performance was, shall we say, a bit overwrought.

The next day, I found the spoon. Still in the car. Not a molecule of yogurt on it. When confronted, my daughter tried to continue the subterfuge but folded pretty quickly. She admitted that she had indeed fabricated the melty, warm, not good story. 

"But," she insisted, "That's what it would have been."

Well, then. Alrighty.

I had to laugh. If my daughter is going to lead a secret life, to dissemble, to feign, to ... well ... lie, it's absolutely better that she do so in regard to breakfast than where any more serious subjects are concerned. Like sex. Or drugs. Or alcohol. Right? Of course right.

Why do teens lie? According to Psychology Today, there are three main reasons. To gain freedom, to escape punishment, or to attain something forbidden. I guess, those are pretty important reasons.

Almost as important as avoiding yogurt.
 
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The Lying Game

"Honesty is the best policy."

"The truth shall set us free."

"Whoever is careless with the truth in small matters cannot be trusted with important matters."

There are countless adages. There are also countless ways a tween can display her disdain about those adages. Rolled eyes, heavy sighs, shoulder shrugs, or simply a blank stare. In the court of tween, there are far worse crimes than perjury.

We were very fortunate when my daughter was younger. Whether it was superior parenting on my part (a lovely but unlikely thought) or a fabulous family daycare provider or terrific teachers or genetics or pure dumb luck, she was a cheerful and compliant child. And, in truth, she is still fairly easy. We haven't had to worry about the big three yet: drugs, alcohol, sex.

But, my daughter's no saint either. I can't put my finger on any specific falsehoods, per se, but we've certainly seen our share of lies of omission. "I forgot to tell you ..." she'll say. Or, "Oh, I didn't remember that rule." Or, "It slipped my mind." Or, "I lost track of time."

There's a new sneakiness that we have to keep an eye on. It's tempting to crack down and try to seize complete control. But, totalitarian regimes rarely last. "Because I said so," lost its power long ago. And, in all honesty, I run out of steam trying to police her long before she runs out of steam trying to get away with things.

Why do tweens and teens lie? Sometimes, certainly, it's to cover bad behavior or to attain something they want (but aren't supposed to get). Sometimes, I think, it's to seem cool in front of their friends. And sometimes, maybe it's just another tool to help them feel in control and independent. Just as they are trying on new hairstyles and clothes, they are experimenting with their personality. Who are they going to be when they grow up? And, more importantly, how fast can they get there?

Let's assume that fibbing is just another developmental stage then. In that case, hopefully, you won't be completely appalled by the following Twitter feeds, in which teens not only lied, but are bragging about it to their peers. Then again, maybe the boasts themselves are lies. Is that like a double negative? If you lie about a lie are you really telling the truth? (What a tangled web teens weave!)

Here goes ...

"Oh yeah, we just watched a few movies ..."

"I didn't take the car last night."

"Everybody failed the test, mom."

"Nothing to worry about between me and him, we're just friends ..."

"I've already done my homework."

"It's not mine. It's my friend's."

"Can I stay home? I don't feel good."

"They don't give report cards anymore!"

"I can't hear you. I'll call you back."

"I don't know how those condoms got in my pocket."

"I swear if you get me this I won't ask for anything else."

That last one is sadly familiar to me (and to my wallet). The rest, happily, I have yet to encounter. And, I'd like to think I never will. But, in all honesty ...

You can read more of these feeds (if you really want to) at #LiesIveToldMyParents.