A little bit of lying can wipe out a lot of trust

It was like a bad scene from an episode of “Law and Order.” I was the relentless interrogator, and my 6-year-old daughter was the accused criminal. A day earlier, after having signed her up at the library for the summer reading program, and returning for her first prize, she realized she only needed to read three more books to get a free comic book. She could think about nothing else. I insisted that we go home, that she take her time and read the three books, and I promised her I would take her back to the library the next day.

I had explained the importance of being honest and only filling in a “bubble” after she completed a book, so imagine my surprise the following day, en route to the library, when I learn she has filled in close to 20 bubbles, landing her exactly on the “spin the wheel get a prize” space.

I was livid. My daughter insisted she had read all those books. But the more I pressed her for details, the more confused she seemed. Like the toughest interrogator, I questioned, accused and bullied my suspect until she finally cried, “OK! I’m going to tell you something — it’s a lie, but I know it’s what you want me to say. I colored in the bubbles just to get to the ‘spin the wheel’ space. But it’s not true!”

It wasn’t until I spoke with my husband and asked him if he had witnessed our daughter reading all those books, and heard him reply, “Yup — she read for two hours while you were at work,” that I realized what I had done. I made my daughter confess to a crime she didn’t commit.

After apologizing to my daughter and making things right, after taking her to the library for her to legitimately collect her comic book and spin the wheel, we talked about the issue that had fueled the entire incident. Lately I had caught her lying about little things, and I told her that because she had not been honest with me, I couldn’t trust what she said. She defended herself, insisting that she had only lied “a little,” but just like a little bit of dye colors a whole glass of water, a little bit of lies destroys trust.

It seems to me that most children go through a “lying phase” at some point during their childhood. At least mine have. Part of it is developmental: when children exaggerate details to make their story sound better, or when they do not have an accurate sense of days, months, numbers, etc., their facts may get mixed up. They sometimes lie to avoid getting in trouble, and sometimes it’s because of sheer laziness. (They say they brushed their teeth or cleaned their room, because they simply don’t feel like doing what you told them to do.) These developmental factors are important to consider. With each of our children, during their lying phases, we gave them a chance to tell the truth without getting punished. If they said something that wasn’t true, they could immediately say, “Wait, that’s not true. I just told a lie. Here’s the truth …” and we would commend them. If we found out they lied and they didn’t fess up on their own, there were consequences.

The truth is, dishonesty destroys relationships. Reputations can be ruined with one lie, and all the money in the world cannot buy integrity and trustworthiness. Like most families, my husband and I don’t have to look to politicians and celebrities to find examples of people who have destroyed their relationships, lost their jobs and their families because of dishonest living. Our children have two relatives who have lost everything — including their families — because of deception and lies. Reality is a powerful teacher.

Here’s another truth about lying: as parents, we need to be truth-tellers. Even “little lies,” like adjusting our kids’ ages to pay a lower rate, or so they can get on Facebook when they are underage, will send the message that it’s acceptable to lie when it’s convenient or for personal gain. We need to set an example by telling the truth all the time, and require our children to do the same. After all, their future successes in their careers, in their relationships and in life depend on it.

Ÿ Becky Baudouin is a freelance writer and speaker. She lives in the Northwest suburbs with her husband, Bernie, and their three daughters.