Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

Fresh Beat Band, Nick Jr., concert, kids

I lied to my daughter yesterday. I’m actually really proud about it, so if you’re a good friend of mine, you should be a little nervous. After all, if I’m willing to lie to her, then…just kidding!  I’d never lie to you. (Right.)

So here’s the deal…

We had tickets to the Fresh Beat Band concert for yesterday afternoon. We’ve actually had them forever, so it’s been a constant topic of conversation at home. It’s also be our best carrot-on-the-stick for the kids for months…you know, “if you don’t behave, we’re not going to the Fresh Beats,” and, “You better wash your hands or they won’t let us into the Fresh Beats.”

Basically, the Fresh Beats have been my closest allies for months.

And then it was here.

It was the morning of the concert and my daughter was not into anything that was going on. You know those days…her bagel wasn’t properly toasted to the golden brown color she demands, there wasn’t the correct amount of cream cheese to cover the surface of said bagel, and she got a purple cup instead of the pink one, which, forget it, as far as she’s concerned, the world was ending.

By the time she was getting dressed, the morning had gone to you-know-what, along with my child. See, we had all decided to dress up as a different member of the Fresh Beat Band, by color only, so I threw on the only teal thing I have in my closet, my husband put on an orange shirt (“just like Shout’s!”), my son wore a Twist-ish blinding neon yellow hoodie from H&M, and my daughter had an entire hot pink outfit that matched Kiki’s hot pink outfit.

Suddenly, I was being schooled by my almost-3-year old that Kiki’s outfit is actually baby pink and hers was hot pink, and therefore, not authentic at all. As I pulled up every image on Google to prove to her that I was right (not because I had to be right, but because I didn’t have anything else for her to wear…ok, well, nothing else downstairs and I was NOT going up to her closet to get something new), a tantrum ensued. Despite the fact that the pictures showed the character in one hot pink outfit after another, my daughter was relentless.

So I decided to pull out the big guns. I jumped on my iPhone and texted my best friend in NY, asking her to please call our house pretending to be Kiki. In character, she would let my sweetie know that if she misbehaved, she wouldn’t be allowed to come to “her” concert.

I saw my husband’s face as I said this. He looked like he knew this wasn’t going to work out in my favor, but he couldn’t wait to see the result. I showed him.

The phone rang. I put it on speaker phone, mainly so my husband could experience my on-the-spot cleverness and the voice said, “Hi, it’s Kiki.”

I can’t put into words how my daughter reacted. A mix between utter shock and utter elation would be appropriate. She couldn’t talk because she was so excited and hugged me the entire time my friend spoke. As the call ended and my speechless toddler waved goodbye to the phone-again, because she was in total shock-I hung up and quickly texted a thank you to my friend.

So was I wrong to trick my kid? I mean, it was her (and my) best interest, right? I’m here to tell you that we both won. My daughter ended up wearing what I picked out to the show and was pretty close to perfect all morning leading up to the performance, so I consider my lie a very successful one.

I can’t be alone here. Others have lied before me. I have to assume even our foremothers lied at some point to get their kids to brush their teeth with their tooth powder and wooden brushes, right?

So to help me sleep a little better, please tell me the worst lie you’ve ever told your kids…come on, I’ll be your best friend!

3 thoughts on “Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

  1. My son broke his front tooth in half. He is so fearful of dentists. I called the dentist and asked them to to tell him his favorite hockey player was in that chair earlier getting his tooth fixed. We were all smiles that day!

  2. My boys truly believe that when you become a parent, special eyes grow in the back of your head. They have combed through my hair, like a camp infirmary head lice check, looking for them…and although they can’t see them – they know they are there!

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