Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire

"No man has a good enough memory to be a successful liar."

---Abraham Lincoln

Well, they did call him "Honest Abe" so he likely knew a thing or two about telling the truth. That's the thing with lies, well one of the problems. It's hard to remember what you have said and to whom, and before you know it you're all over the map with a few different stories, and the truth is in the rearview mirror, trying desperately to catch up. While I am Irish and can spew more than a little Blarney, I am a terrible liar. 

Mostly because I forget things, almost instantly, just like my spirit animal Dory, the Royal Blue Tang from down under. There is no way I can prevaricate my way through life because I am lucky if I can remember the real details like my SSN, date of birth, and other vital information. I had to get a password keeper app because remembering all the different PINs and logins was just a bridge too far for me. Also, having them written in a notebook that says "Passwords and Logins" on the front is not good cyber-security.

Is lying always bad though? Don't we all fib just a little from time to time? Yes, we absolutely do. They call them "white lies" and usually they are small, unimportant statements that we all have to make once in a while. That poor, hapless guy who gets asked, "Do these jeans make my butt look big?" has to come up with something better than, "Please don't hurt me." Being a writer helps in situations where telling the God's honest might be problematic — for instance, planning a surprise party. You're going to have to tell someone a whopper if you want the plan to go off perfectly. 

It must be said that I am not the person you want to be tasked with this, however.  The one time I was planning a surprise for someone, it took a conspiracy of seven people to get the birthday girl out of her office so we could decorate it. On my way there, I ran into her, and there was no plausible reason for me being where she was. What did I do? What any good recovering Catholic girl would do, I confessed immediately and begged her to act surprised.

 There is a particular category of lie though, that is entirely forgivable and often entirely necessary: the lies we tell our children. First of all, know this; every parent has lied to their children. We have to; otherwise, their childhood could lose a  fair amount of innocent fun. This is not the space to go into some of the "holiday-inspired" tall tales we tell our toddlers. There will be no comment here on who is real and who is not. But other lies happen in childhood, and sometimes they are necessary to stay sane in those days of small children and their big questions. 

The ones I remember center around family pets. When kids are little, they love their little animal friends, even if it's just a goldfish from the carnival. The trouble is, these fish are the paper cups of the wild kingdom; they are disposable. When Bubbles, one of the many fish we've had, went belly up, I knew that Devin would be inconsolable. There was no way that I had the mental bandwidth on that day for yet another toilet bowl funeral Mass of Christian Burial, so I assured her that he was just sleeping, got her to school, stashed the corpse in the trash, and began the hunt for Bubbles 2.0. I was racing the clock, going from Petco to PetSmart and everywhere else in between before school got out. It only took three hours of driving and shopping to find a stunt double for Bubbles.  By snack time, "Bubbles" was hale and hearty and no one was the wiser. It was a lie but swear to Dog, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye, I would do it again.

My ethics are situational when it comes to kids and these small bits of deception. I was lied to as a kid, and I turned out fine. My father told me the reason I had red hair and green eyes was because I was directly descended from the High Kings of Ireland. My cousin Grace Kelly was, after all, a real-life princess, so there you go.

OK, sure, it's not true, but so what? It was fun thinking it was real and it's not like it will come up at my Senate confirmation hearings. If you want harsh reality, it's all around us; you don't have to look that hard. Telling the truth is usually the best choice, but if you fudge it a little and it means a child is comforted, no harm, no foul. Also, Devin, I am sorry about Bubbles, but his successor was a happy fish in our house, and someday you might have to do the same for your kids. Call me if you need help hiding the body.