The truth is important to me. When someone lies about something, they’re warping your perception of reality, you see. You think that events occurred, that did not, or occurred in a different way than they really did… This could lead to you speaking as an authority on something based on incorrect facts. You could look like a fool! That sort of disregard for another’s image is really kind of deplorable when you think about it in this way, isn’t it?
When something other than the truth is presented to me as fact, that person is saying a few things to me.
- They do not believe I am capable of knowing the truth. They don’t trust me to have the facts.
- They think that I’m too dumb to figure out the truth for myself.
- They’re not afraid enough of me to worry about what’s going to happen when I discover that I’ve been mislead.
- They do not respect me enough to save me from walking around this life with an invalid version of reality in my head.
My five year old is at the stage of her life where she’s learning these things about me.
- She seems to wonder: “How pissed would dad be if he knew the truth?”
- She doesn’t think too much about me finding out the truth. Not that she thinks I’m too dumb to figure it out, mind you… That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.
- She’s progressively getting less afraid of what happens when I discover the truth.
- Again, she’s not thinking about my image, cause she’s five. Life would be better for her, if in my mental reality, for the first time ever since the creation of physics, the inanimate objects flew across the room of their own volition and broke. She’s clearly a firm believer in “a first time for everything”. She believes in it so much that she’ll give me the far less likely, unbelievable version of reality expecting that I will buy it, and when I speak of it as an authority, others will gasp in astounded awe.
- She knows there’s a good chance that I’ll be pissed. Well good. That’s a start. I’ve taught her well.
- Although I know she’s only 5, and the mind doesn’t really think ahead until much later in life, I’m continually blown away at just how much smarter than me she thinks she is.
- I need to step it up a little when I blow the lid off of scandal. Clearly my reaction is far too pedestrian. Time for some shock and awe. It sucks that you can’t spank kids anymore, cause I got mine. I did my time. And it worked. SO much easier than dreaming up punishments, or timing thing while they sit in a corner. When I screwed up it was “I’m going to smack the shit outta you!”. Now that I’m in the driver’s seat, I gotta dream up some new creative unexpected thing. “I’m going to… Throw out… something!” like I know what any of her toys are, much less where the ones she really likes happen to be. I can’t remember events either, so I can’t even threaten to not let her do something she’s looking forward to. When we plan things for her, we don’t tell her, so that she doesn’t drive us nuts being all excited about it… Kinda leaves me with “Just don’t do it again!” twenty years ago, I’d have been able to tell her that I’d smack her into the middle of next week, and be done with it. Sorry about the huge paragraph here, but when I hit enter, it starts item number 4.
- If I can’t get her to knock it off, at the rate she’s growing / learning, she’ll be able to tell me anything she wants and make it convincing, and I’ll be screwed. She’s going to be smarter than me before I know it. I’m hoping that respect thing kicks in.