Dear Spike:
Abe Lincoln, you ain't.
Granted, you're a good kid. Better than most, I reckon. And maybe that's why it was so heart-breaking, this week, when I bore witness to your very first lie.
As is our usual morning routine, you started the day with breakfast, and then a Mandarin video. When the show was over, I flipped off the TV and moved you into your play room.When I went to grab a snack for you from the kitchen, I heard the TV buzz back to life.
I came back and gave you my best "not happy with you" stare down.
"It was an accident," you immediately protested.
OK, so you're not a very good liar. And because I want to make sure you don't ever become a good liar, I cracked the whip pretty hard yesterday.
I wasn't mad at you, just disappointed — and a little bit sad. As much as I'd love to think otherwise, I know there will be plenty of other times that you will feel that it is easier to lie to me than to tell me the truth.
And I know you're not going to believe this — I know it might even seem like a lie — but you can always tell me the truth.
Always.
I won't always be happy (you were going to be punished for turning the TV on without permission no matter if you lied or not) and sometimes I might even feel a bit mad — but I will never, ever stop loving you.
And that's the truth.
Love,
dad
4 comments:
Thank goodness her first lie wasn't a very good one. Getting caught is a great deterent. I have first graders who have succeeded so often in their lies, practiced it so many times, that I'm fooled even when several other eye witnesses swear they are lying. It's sad to be so good at something so bad.
Gaky
I just found your site off of another blogger's Friday Follow entry. Glad I found you--love reading these letters to your daughter :)
stephanie
Actually its a sign of intelligence. You should be proud.
Amazing post(!)
-_-
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