On lying to our children

This morning I found myself pouring an entire box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal into a Cinnamon Toasters Malt-o-meal cereal bag. I did it before the kids were in the kitchen, so they couldn't see the evidence. You would think that they would like the costlier brand better, but this is actually not the case. And in fact, when I set the bowl of disguised cereal in front of Madeleine, she took a long look and said, "I don't like this kind." Never mind that to her, it came from the same bag as yesterday's breakfast. And then I outright lied and said, "It's the same stuff as always." She tasted one square, turned up her nose and again protested that she didn't like it. I showed her the bag, as evidence and she finally, slowly, carefully began eating breakfast.

I lie to Isaac all the time. It seems the only thing he knows how to say these days is "Why?" Neither of the other kids were "why" kids and I was very thankful. So when he asks why we can't turn left, I simply tell him it's dangerous, and we'll get lost. That buys me a second or so for him to think up a new question. And then I have to come up with a new lie/answer. Why can't we watch tv right now? Well, obviously, the tv is broken, and then I hide the remote so he can't test the theory. Why can't he have candy for dinner? Duh, it's all gone (just don't show him the 7 bags of Halloween candy I have stashed away!) Why does he have to go to sleep? So mommy doesn't loose her mind, only this one's not a lie.

Benjamin is at the age where lying is no longer appropriate. Dang. So when he asks, in front of his sister, if Santa Claus is real, the only response I can give is a sort of half truth, "Santa is real for everyone who believes in him." And maybe the history of half truths and outright lies has come to haunt us. Benjamin's response to almost anything Adam tells him is to look at me and ask, "Really, mom?"