I’ve never wanted to be the type of parent who perpetuates the myths common to childhood, like Santa and the reindeer or the omniscient Tooth Fairy.
But I am exactly one of those parents.
I’m one of those parents who loves to see their children’s eyes grow wide with wonder and excitement at the possibility of a winged fairy who compensates children for the pain of tugging out their lateral incisors by leaving money under their pillow.
But sometimes I write parenting checks that my parenting ass can’t cash. Like when I forget, for two weeks in a row, to put the money under the pillow. I am then forced to lie again in order to protect the original lie:
“The Tooth Fairy has Alzheimer’s and we need to be patient with her.”
“She STILL hasn’t come? Well then, we need to sit down right now and write a letter to the American Tooth Fairy Association. In fact, let’s report her to the Better Business Bureau while we’re at it.”
Those are lies I choose to tell to my children and I’m not saying it’s right. In fact, there’s always a painful moment when my child catches me in the lie. Sometimes it’s discovered on the playground at school when one loud-mouthed dream wrecker says “Are you stupid? There’s NO SUCH THING as a tooth fairy!” Sometimes a sibling spills the beans just to evoke a reaction from the innocent victim. Sometimes they just ask with so much desire for truth, I have no choice but to confess my parental wretchedness.
But then there are myths that I perpetuate simply because I’m wrong. For example, the kids and I were discussing the summer solstice yesterday and I blurted out, without thinking, “Hey, today is the day we can stand an egg upright! Should we try it?”
I apparently still retain some credibility with them because they collectively shouted “Yes!!” and flocked around the kitchen counter where I continued to rattle off “facts” regarding the longest day of the year.
I carefully placed the egg on the smooth counter top and adjusted it until it finally stood up on end. We all stood there, amazed, by the freakiness of it all.
Until Daniel, 13, happened upon us and ruined everything with one simple question.
“Aren’t you confusing the solstice with the equinox?”
Um.
“The egg is standing up, Dan. What more proof do you need?”
“I’m googling it to prove that you’re wrong.”
Because Google is my children’s new parental authority and proving me wrong is their life’s goal.
Turns out that Dan was right. Turns out that it is the equinox that sends millions of mothers on the mission to impress their children with the standing egg. Also turns out that the standing of the egg on the equinox is a myth, too. It’s all just a big fat lie.
Considering the lesson I learned today, I think it’s time I confess to them that I was never in the circus nor was I shot out of a cannon. And that scar on my eyebrow…well, it wasn’t from the trapeze bar after all. It happened while I was making the citizen’s arrest of a bank robber who attacked me with his numchucks.
