I suppose I should be grateful it’s taken this long.
But this last month or so, my daughter has discovered that – actually – you don’t always have to tell the truth. So she’s become a master of deceit, lies tumbling from her childish lips at an ever-increasing rate.
The problem, of course, is that she doesn’t quite grasp the concept of ‘plausibility’ yet. So her lies? Well, they’re not exactly subtle. Here are my favourites from this week:
While standing next to a broken ornament: “It just fell off when I was standing here not doing anything to it.”
When I asked her what her hair bobbles were doing in the cereal: “I don’t know HOW the bobbles got into the Shredded Wheat, Mummy. Maybe those cheeky monkeys did it.”
At 2am, playing with her dinosaurs: “I got out of bed to give you a snuggle, but it was dark and I couldn’t find my way.”
Not wanting to share her toys: “I don’t know where the sword is. It’s not behind the sofa.”
When I picked her up from after-school club: “No, we didn’t have sandwiches. Mrs Hardman said that they were only for the juniors. What’s for dinner?”
