Sunday, March 20, 2011

Lies your children tell me

I have always been a bit gullible. Despite my asshole tendencies, and the world's asshole tendencies, I still have a gooey caramel-filled heart that wants to believe the best about people. Including that people aren't going to lie to me in order to amuse themselves.

Now I am not saying that this is the reason the children of friends tell me tall tales, because I just don't think their little psyches are developed enough for it, but I do find it curious that when little kids get around me, they start making shit up. Just yesterday I was sitting next to Max, who is 3. And Jewish. (The reason for noting this will be apparent momentarily.) He was telling me all about his day, and showing me the knitted kitten with mittens he'd gotten at preschool. Our conversation continued, and before you know it he was telling me, Al-Gore-like, that he invented eggnog.

Oh, really?

The other interesting piece of being lied to by little kids is that if I try making stuff up, they immediately call me on it. And look at me with pity. "Oh, McPolack," they seem to be saying, "Nobody eats helicopter pie. There's no such thing as helicopter pie, sad and dimwitted blond lady."


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