If you live in Florida and have a child of schoolable age, you might be in the midst of FCAT frenzy this week as the standardized test is wielded to make sure your kids know what they’re supposed to know. And if you’re like me, you’re suddenly regretting that time you told them that wind is really tree gas.
I have always completely and thoroughly answered any question my sons have ever asked me, no matter how difficult, embarrassing, or inconvenient, with a total lie just to mess with their heads. That’s just the kind of loving father I am.
It’s one of the perks of being a dad. You have this wonderful child, bright and inquisitive, who trusts you implicitly in all things and will actually believe that airplanes fly because of giant rubber bands.
It starts innocently. You tell them about Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy to give them magic and wonder. When they’re too young to understand complicated explanations you talk about babies and cabbage patches and storks with magical maternity ward access. Sometimes it’s just to get some peace, like when you explain that mommy had to kill and skin all the groceries herself before she got home, so let’s let her nap a while, OK?
Gradually you start doing it for the fun of it.
Lightning bugs are mosquitoes with flashlights. Grass is green because God thought it would accessorize well with the sky and make the Earth look bigger. Microwaves cook food by humming at it really loud. Presidents are chosen by mortal combat. The tide goes out to get away from ugly people in thongs. Kid-eating hallway snakes come out after bedtime. Beer is a special drink just for Daddies that makes you fat and balding (that one is actually true).
While lying to your child may seem cruel, a little creativity can make better memories. When my youngest son was 4 we took him to Disney World during a $20 deal for residents. We didn’t find out until we got there that it was for kids only, adults were still full price. Fortunately he’d had so much fun on the ferry ride over to the ticket line that he thought that was Disney World. Good parents that we were, we went all out and took the monorail on the way back to the parking lot so he’d get the full experience, thus taking care of his Disney needs for another year.
It’s not just a dad thing. Older siblings, delighted to be on the giving end for once, can come up with some doozies. And moms aren’t necessarily to be trusted to clear them up, either.
“Mom! Did you really buy me from gypsies for $3 and a live chicken?”
“Of course not, dear,” my wife said soothingly. “You know I don’t pay retail. I had a coupon.”
There are downsides, obviously. Your befuddled kids are likely to experience serious problems with fiscal responsibility (“Coins come out of my ears! Dad showed me!”) and some extremely traumatic science classes later on, and you run the risk of coming home to find your child opening your $2,000 home theater system with a claw hammer so “the poor little musicians can get out.”
But even though I feel a little guilty as my son faithfully bubbles in the answers he’s learned from me — thereby dooming himself to remedial classes forever — I know he’ll have his revenge soon enough, after I become senile and he can tell me all about the wonders of my new rest home. “You’ll love it, dad! It’s in zero gravity!”
And I’ll believe him.