I'm Teaching My Son How to Lie

This photo has nothing to do with this post. It just makes me laugh. 

My son, let's call him Hortensio, is a great kid. He's wicked smart, funny, outgoing and creative. He has boundless energy, which is amazing to watch and can, or course, be exhausting. But there is one element of his personality (that ahem he might have got from me) that I am not so crazy about. He never, ever, ever, ever wants to be wrong. (Or lose at anything - but that is a whole other blog post.)

If my wife or I ever disagree with Hortensio, or try and tell him he isn't right about something, he will argue with us until the cows come home, throw a house party, burn the house down, go to jail, get reformed and then start a non-profit to help build homes for other cows to come home to.

This really manifests itself when Hortensio occasionally (more than occasionally) finds himself in trouble. Let's say he is running around the yard like a crazy person and accidentally crashes into his sister. He will immediately insist that he didn't actually crash into her.  And that it was her fault. And that she made him push her, or that he was just swinging his arms and she ran into him. It's really hard for him to own up and say "You're right. I messed up. I'm sorry."

The other day Hortensio was trying to explain something to his brother and got really frustrated when he didn't get it. Hortensio started yelling at him and when I said "Hey, if you are trying to teach your brother something and he doesn't get it, yelling at him doesn't help. Do I yell at you if you are trying to learn something and you don't get it right away?" his response was "Well, I don't know because you never take the time to teach me anything new." Cat's in the cradle, bud. Cat's in the cradle.

The problem with this is that when he argues back and insists that he is in the right, he just gets in more trouble. All we want is for him to say he is wrong or say he is sorry. But often a small incident will turn into a big punishment because I get so frustrated with his talking back and arguing and insisting that he is right and I send him to his room. (This post is really making me look like a hack, right?)

The other night we had a big blow out fight, about something that I don't recall and he got sent to his room. I went down and was talking to him and said, "Sometimes, Mom and I just want you to say your sorry and feel bad about what you did. When you argue that it was someone else'
s fault, it just makes us more frustrated. If you say you are sorry, even if you don't totally feel sorry, things will go better for you."

Sure enough a few days later there was another incident where he lost his temper. And immediately became argumentative. And shortly thereafter got sent to his room. But surprisingly after a few minutes, he sheepishly came out and came up to me and said "Dad, I'm really sorry. I lost my temper and I was wrong. Is it OK if I come out of my room now?" And you know what? I let him out. Do I think he really was 100% sorry. Hmmm..probably not. Do I care? Not really. Does that make me a terrible parent? Absolutely. I felt like we won a small victory. Here he was taking responsibility and apologizing instead of going to his grave insisting that he was right. And maybe he was lying. And maybe I don't care.

So, help me out. Have I failed utterly as a parent because I let my son manipulate me and get out of a punishment? Or did I teach him a valuable life lesson because sometimes part of being a grown up is saying you are sorry for things that you might not really feel all that sorry about because it's the right thing to do? Do you need a .pdf version of this post to attach to my parent of the year application?  And please don't try and tell me that I am wrong. Because I am not. I'm just flailing my arms around and you ran into me.

Peppered with Truth

Alright, I have been a parent now for two years and four months. And a parent of two for seven weeks and one day. There is a distinction between the two--it turns out having another kid is 100% additional work; for some reason I thought it would be half that.  So, there are things about parenting that I wasn't ready for: for example, tar poop out of a new born, a two-year-old's ability to quote conversations she wasn't listening to, and how much you just lie.

Daisy was looking for potato bugs in the back yard and I was making dinner. (I know, this is the life I have!) Then she either got bored or, more likely, realized that "Looking for Potato Bugs" is an assignment given by dad to get you out of his hair, so she came in and found me.  She used her super cute but horrible English to ask me to come out and help her look for bugs.  When I had given her the assignment I had come prepared with a mason jar with grass and twigs inside and holes cut in the lid; that effort alone should have got me a half an hour to finish making the Strawberry and Black Pepper Ice Cream I was making for Book Club. (No really, this is the life I have!)   So, I'm crushing pepper corns with the bottom of a measuring cup, not nearly as effective as a grinder, and I get the tug at the bottom of my shirt,

"Daddy, you go look for podado bugs wif Da-zee."

I tell her that I'm making dinner and she keeps tugging and I keep deflecting; you all know the drill, it can go on for hours, or rather until one of us is lying on their back screaming at the top of their lungs that they hate the other.  So instead of letting it get to that point, I lie.  And really what bothers me was not the lie--it was quite clever--but how fast and easily it came.  I mean, here she is, two years on Earth with nothing but her parents to guide her like the bird man through the twisting swamps of Florida, and I lie.  Slow and easy.

"Oh look, there's some potato bugs on the floor, all rolled up."  Several peppercorns had escaped my butchering and took refuge on the kitchen floor and they looked like a family of potato bugs out on vacation. 

She was elated.  Slowly and one by one, she picked up the rollie pollies and dropped them gently in to the jar. 

"They sleeping?"  She asked.

"Yup.  They are so tired from coming all the way into the kitchen that they will be sleeping for a while, oh look there's some more over there by the sink."

There is this moment in every Father's life when he realizes that this child is wholly dependent on him. It's my job, better, my life's quest, to teach, protect and provide for this little girl, and she will soak up every drip I drop.  There is another moment when that father thinks, "Oh, she'll fall for this, I'm her dad...but then should I really be abusing my power over a innocent little girl?" Then he realizes that he no longer has to sweep the kitchen so he makes sure she gets every last sleeping potato bug into that glass jar motel.  Those two birds never saw that stone a-comin'!

Please tell me I am not the only one.  And if you do, please tell me that you will not report me to child services. And if you do, please remember my name is Chris Clark.

What easy lies have slithered off your tongue? And I don't want any Christmas or Toothing lies, those are perfectly socially acceptable and therefore not wrong, like marijuana. No, just your day to day why-did-I-say-that-it-was-more-difficult-then-the-truth lies.

Also, if you see a little black girl walking around with a jar full of pepper and grass, take a second to complement her on how well she's able to rocks those wild bugs to sleep...I mean at one point she was singing lullabies to the jar...what a dope.