The problem is that you have to practise what you preach for the lie to be effective. If my son can’t have tomato dip-dip because his head’s going to fall right off his shoulders if he does, it means I can’t have any with my dinner either, or I’ll be subject to the same terrible fate.
That slight issue aside, I think it’s really about instilling good habits early, and using the only weapons available to get them started - that is, imagining a ludicrously daft but terrifying consequence of their bad habits, to encourage good behaviour. And let’s face it - they’re only little white lies, aren’t they? For the greater good?
Con's column
The challenge, of course, is that they have no conception of good and bad when it comes to their general health and wellbeing. All they’re seeing is the tomato dip-dip in life and the horrendous miscarriage of justice that is being denied what they want. From this perspective, lying - or exaggerating the consequences - a touch doesn’t feel like an ethically dubious choice. We’re spinning tall tales at them for their own protection. What worries me is how long they hold onto the falsehoods in their own minds, well past the age when they should have realised it’s a total fabrication. For example, I clearly recall my own mother telling me that I absolutely had to brush my teeth twice a day, or not only would they all fall out, but my mouth would sew itself shut into the bargain - meaning I wouldn’t be able to speak, or eat, forever. I think I still believed this until I was about 12 - but boy did I look after my dental hygiene, something I’m fastidious about to this day.
What are your experiences of this moral minefield? Has fabrication ever backfired on you as a parent? Tell us at [email protected] and we’ll share your best tall stories.