Yesterday, Flea knocked over a picture and tried to tell me it wasn't her – it was the dog.
Nice try. Except we don’t have a dog.
Obviously I told Flea that it’s very important to tell the truth and that if she tells the truth, I won’t be angry, I will be proud that she has enough respect for me to be honest.
Like most of my parenting ‘wisdom’ this is nonsense, of course. I’m a compulsive liar as a parent. Some of the untruths I have told this week include:
- Of course I can make pastry. But I’m allergic to it, so I probably shouldn’t in case I get ill.
- Sorry, darling, that CD isn’t in the car, you left it in the house, I think.
- What chocolate wrapper? Oh that? It’s from last week, I think.
- It’s a great outfit, I just think it’s a bit cold to wear your red and white stripy shorts and orange t-shirt.
- Obviously, I don’t mind you putting up a Spiderman poster in the dining room, but I can’t find the blu tack.
- I’d make Cheerios but we haven’t got any milk so you have to have a cereal bar.
- Of course I can tell it’s a cat.
- What’s a cretin? It’s a bit like a pancake.
- Fish are called fish because they were discovered by a French guy called Monsieur Le Fish.
- Mummy can’t carry you because I fell over today and my back hurts.
It's not just me, right?
