A few years ago, I participated in the Slice of Life Story Challenge run by Two Writing Teachers. The slices have their own category in the archive. I enjoyed the process of writing each slice. Trying to spend a little more time crafting an entry, focusing more on life, storytelling and emotion than I normally am wont to do in this space. This year, I am going to try to do it again. I may not make every day of the challenge, but will give it my best shot.

“You mean everyone else had ice cream after lunch, but you didn’t get any?” I asked, a bit incredulously.

“No,” she answered quite with a downhearted expression. “I didn’t finish my lunch.”

I clarified. “So you didn’t get any ice cream because you didn’t finish your lunch.”

She nodded. “No, but John and Thomas had some.”

I had already said we could have ice cream when this little story came out. So here I was with the promise of ice cream hanging in the air when she tells me this. I fix her a small cup full and one for myself.

“Where is my ice cream?” asked John

“You had some at lunch. I think one bowl of ice cream a day is enough.”

Then it began. Accusations flew. Both sides were most insistent. Olivia swore she did not have any. John swore she did. Of course I could call the sitter, but Joanne did not have a voice — literally. She was suffering from laryngitis. This was her first time sitting for us. In an effort to do a good job, I could understand her not serving Olivia ice cream if she had barely touched her lunch. Frankly, I was at a loss. Someone was lying to me and doing it very well. This was new.

I told them that I would be contacting Miss Joanne by email to see what she said. Finally, I could see Olivia begin to crack, but not until she had finished the cup of ice cream. She hemmed and hawed, and when I told her I would not be angry if she would just tell me the truth, she caved and admitted she had lied.

I think the most startling thing is that she did it with such conviction, even knowing that she would eventually get caught. She didn’t care as long as she had the instant gratification of the cup of ice cream. Why in the world she had decided to deny her brothers another cup, I still don’t understand.

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True to my word I did not get angry or fly off the handle. I did tell her that she would get no more ice cream from this carton — it would be for me and the boys to enjoy the rest. I don’t know if that was the best thing to do or not. Will she learn a lesson or instead learn to not “‘fess up” next time after all?

The sorry tale doesn’t end there. Later in the day John lied to me, too. Not as sophisticated as his six-year-old sister, he was totally unconvincing (note to self — believe John next time about the ice cream). This time I did get angry. Fed up with the whole sorry affair, I was louder than I needed to be.

Now I am at a parenting impasse. Lying is a new challenge; it has not been a problem before. On one hand I don’t want to make punishment so harsh that they lie repeatedly to avoid getting in trouble. I would much rather have the truth and their trust. On the other hand, I need them to understand that lying is wrong. It betrays my trust in them. It stops me from allowing them freedom.

I am trying not to take it personally. I am trying not to feel duped. I am not angry — just sad and perplexed as to what to do next. Without a doubt, parenting is the hardest thing ever.

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