Sunday Newscape Magazine

White lies. What are they? Well, I should know; I tell them to my kids all the time.

Emma’s Question: “Mommy, how does water turn into snow?”

My Answer: “Well Emma, you see, the great Horn Bloffer takes all the water in the streams and lakes and puts it into his Slumpple Snow Maker Machine, and makes snow, just so we can make snow men and sled.”

Emma’s Question: “Mommy, how does the fan move around?”

Mommy’s Answer: “Well Emma, you see, inside the wall, there’s a Cladder Danb, and he has a Great Make It All Go Machine that makes everything in the house go on and off. He does this because he wants us to have light and heat and fans.”

Emma’s Question: “Mommy, where did the pizza come from?”

Mommy’s Answer: “Jesus brought it, Baby, because He loves us and wants us to eat.” (Okay, this last one isn’t really a lie. It’s more of a half truth).

Some would ask themselves, why does this mother of two, who supposedly loves her children, lie to them about such things? I will give you my honest reason.

Lying is so much easier. Seriously, what five-year old is really going to understand the mysteries of how the water in the air freezes and then turns to snow, for crying out loud? Heck, I don’t even understand it much myself. Or how electricity works? That one she would never buy. I know because I tried to explain the whole “electrical shock” thing to her, and she said, “That’s not true.” Electrical shock she won’t buy; but a Clabber Danb? She’s all ears.

 I find myself telling my kids little white lies. I’m a hypocrite, what can I say? Fiction is easier than the truth. Besides, whenever I try to explain with the truth, it always ends with another, “Why?” or “How?”

So I end up making up a white lie just to get them to be quiet and leave me alone. For crying in the rain, I’m not a freakin’ encyclopedia. I never said I knew everything. I believe that’s my children’s job, knowing everything. LEAVE ME ALONE. Sheesh.