As a parent, I know that there is a good time to tell your kid the full unvarnished truth (most of the time, as long as it's age appropriate) and also a good time to lie, lie, lie. I know this yet, last night I committed a sitcom-worthy sin: I didn't lie when I should've.
It started out innocently enough. My son, snuggled in his bed, me sitting next to the bed on the floor chatting with him about Halloween. Then we started talking about holidays after Halloween and Day of the Dead came up. Then things went south.
"Mom, tell me about Day of the Dead. What's that all about?"
"Well," says I, "some people think that on November 1st, the souls of your dead friends and family come back to walk the earth. Some people even set out food and drinks so they can hang out together."
The second this comes out of my mouth, I'm thinking, Why? Why would you tell him the truth, just before bedtime? If you want to put the icing on the cake, you'll say, "Sleep tight, don't let the dead people bite," then leave him alone in the dark.
Not surprisingly, he said in a small voice, "Um, I'm kinda freaked out right now, Mom."
"I'm sorry, babe. That doesn't really happen." Yeah, right - the damage is already done.
"Can I have some water?"
"Of course you can. Just a sec."
"Can I come with you?" he asks. "And can you carry me?"
So, before I know it, my big mouth and my guilt have my over a barrel and I'm traipsing around the house with an eight year old in my arms.
Lesson learned: tell kids the truth. Unless it's bed time.
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