I cannot be the only one…who attempts to find the balance between my child becoming a world-class liar and not stifling his imagination when he is sharing his latest exaggerated tale. Don’t misunderstand me, I have very little patience for the, “I didn’t do that,” type of fibs when I clearly saw Sonny Boy squeeze toothpaste all over the bathroom counter, I am speaking more of the, “John’s dad came to school juggling chainsaws, he dropped one on his foot and cut off his thumb toe, but luckily had an extra toe in his tool box,” variety of lies.
When Sonny Boy begins to weave a tale, I listen patiently to the polish he is purposefully adding to amp up the story, but when he finishes I ask him to verify a few of the details.
I’ll ask him, “Did the hockey player really do a break dance in the middle of the game or did you imagine that part?” What worries me is when Sonny Boy replies, with a great air of confidence, that the break dance did in fact did happen, but only when the coach, other players, and the entire rest of the fans watching just happened to look away all at the same time, leaving him as the solo viewer of the hockey game break dance.
It is curious how his little six-year-old mind works, I wonder if he really thinks I believe his tall tale or if he believes the two of us are in on the joke together, either way I am not sure he knows what he is doing is lying. I remember my own daydreams as a child; singing into the hair brush while my fans screamed for an encore or sending my dolly to the principles' office when she failed to walk on her porcelain legs to practice her ABC’s on the blackboard, but I am not sure if I spread those daydreams around as facts to the other members of my family like Sonny Boy does.
I hate to stomp out Sonny Boy’s creativity, I will leave that for the workforce to take care of when he’s an adult, but at the same time I want him to know that exaggerating is just another way of lying. I guess until I get it figured out I will enjoy the fairy stories he creates to liven up the sometimes mundane life of a Sonny Boy, while extolling the virtues of honesty upon him (maybe, just maybe, some of what I say will sink into that precious little bean of his in between his tale of how he saw the family dog open the closet door, take both his shoes out, and then leave them on the stairs).
|I am ordering this...it seems fitting to my tale.|