I lie to my kids. Not just sometimes - all the time. I'm a big stinky liar. Sure, sure, it's important to tell your kids the truth. Except when it's better to just flat out lie.
This approach automatically applies to all Disney films. Take The Lion King, for instance. Simba's father was not, as it appeared, crushed to death in front of his cub. He's just resting at the bottom of the gorge until the stampede is over and will probably meet up with his son in a sequel. Tarzan's parents weren't eaten alive by a cheetah while he slept in his crib. They were probably just knocked unconscious and will meet up with their son in a sequel. The meteorite that crashes to Earth in Dinosaur merely set fire to an island and didn't destroy the entire population of the planet except for one dinosaur and four monkeys. All the other animals swam away and will probably meet up in a sequel. Disney has a formula for children. I have a formula for Disney.
But there are other, real life situations that call for fudging the facts. For example, if we're driving around the countryside (read "suburbs") and see the occasional animal lying motionless at the edge of the highway, I'll yell out, "Hey, is that the moon?" so everyone will look up (even my husband falls for this one) and the children won't see the poor creature. It's a diversionary tactic. Sometimes one of the kids, bless them, will actually find the moon and make an honest woman of me.
But once, I was distracted, paying attention to my driving or looking at road signs, and from her booster car seat vantage point, my then 4-year-old daughter piped up, "Momma, why do animals sleep so close to the road?"
Now what was I to do? Blurt out, "That raccoon's not sleeping. It's dead. It's obviously been struck by a vehicle going in excess of 60 mph. Probably an SUV." I don't think so. Instead I said something like, "Gee, that's a good question. We'll have to look into that. You'd think they'd be scared but maybe they're so used to the sound of cars that they can fall asleep anywhere."
And who got hurt in this scenario (besides the raccoon)? No one.
I also lie about where Christmas trees go after they are put out by the curb. Santa's special garbage trucks pick them up and bring them back up to the North Pole where they're reanimated for the next year.
I lie about meat. I told the kids that the chicken and beef we eat comes from cows and chickens that died of old age.
These are just some of the useful skills I've learned while walking the parenthood beat. But I wasn't always this quick. I had to learn about road kill and the suburbs. Having grown up in New York City, I already had the Santa tree thing worked out. You do the best you can. Being a mom's an ongoing (and dishonest) process.
Kids have their whole lives to know about bad stuff, sad stuff, scary stuff. Even mildly upsetting stuff. They don't want to know that the tree they lovingly decorated and found gifts underneath on Christmas morning is going to a dump. They don't even want to know that it's preventing erosion at some beach. Recycling, though it's drummed into their heads in every single cartoon, is not that important to them.
And they probably don't want to know that, back in the old country, their great grandmother used to swing chickens over her head to break their necks. I don't even want to know that.
They have questions and we need to be ready with answers. What does the Tooth Fairy do with all those teeth? (Builds Tooth Fairy castles.) Where does the Sandman get his sand? (Jones Beach.) Where do babies come from? (Chinatown or Macy's -- depends on the baby.)
Right now, their dad and I and the other grown-ups who love them can act as buffers until we just can't buffer anymore. We're the ones who are supposed to lie awake at night worrying about the national debt and deforestation and wildlife mortality rates. They are supposed to have sweet dreams and visits from the Sandman and no bites from bed bugs.
