I have failed to teach my kids many things. They have messy rooms. They have little concept of table manners, although they do use utensils and generally keep their food either on their plates or in their mouths. They eat pretty well where and when it suits them, and their father and I have become short-order cooks at dinner time. They generally remember to say "please" and "thank you", but I suspect this is due largely to the bevy of paid caregivers and teachers who have had them in their charge over the years, rather than my own parenting skills. All of that said, their father and I have taught them that telling the truth is important, and that lying is bad, and, consequently, they are very honest. That's a good thing, but it makes it hard to explain the etiquette of white lies and why sometimes, lying is the only good choice.
I can remember very clearly the day I learned about "white lies". I was in grade 2 and my teacher, a beautiful young lady named Miss Paul, explained to us that if we told a fib to spare someone's feelings, it wasn't really a lie. It was good manners, and this is why it was called a "white" lie. (She never did tell us what colour the "bad" lies were, but I always imagined that they were black or red). In any event, the upshot was that nice girls just didn't say mean things. If, when asked, they honestly couldn't say something nice, they said something dishonest, like "Of course I like tomato aspic, Mrs. Smith".
Miss Paul was lucky to live in a time when children - especially girls - were still being raised to be compliant and to not question what those in authority, like teachers, said. None of us questioned her and, frankly, what she said made perfect sense. Who wanted to be known as mean or nasty? Miss Paul was nice and we wanted to be nice, too. White lies could help us be nice. Today's parent, however, does not have the same advantage as Miss Paul did. My kids question just about everything, and they are particularly relentless in trying to reconcile inconsistencies in the rules. The whole "do as I say, not as I do" thing has never really taken off in our house (nor should it). If I swear, speed or jay-walk, I know I have to brace myself for the inevitable lecture from Janet and Daniel that follows. So, explaining why lying can sometimes be a good thing (and I do think that the white lie has its place) is tricky.
I've been able to avoid it for a long time, but after wanting to die from embarrassment on a number of occasions as Janet remarks to people that their houses smell or that she really hates what they've served her for dinner, I have come to the realise that I cannot put it off any longer. She has also brought to the attention of one or two estheticians that, in her view, they wear too much eye shadow or perfume. She is brutally honest with her opinion, both solicited and unsolicited. When I admonish her for her comments, she looks at me accusingly and says things like "What? It's true". How do I argue with that, unless I have filled her in on the whole white lie thing?
Still, I do not relish explaining it to her and having her force me to retrace my steps on honesty during her shrewd cross-examination, when she will no-doubt point out to me that my position doesn't make any sense.
"So, you're saying that nice girls lie. Does that mean that honest girls are not nice? Really Mother. . . "
I can hardly wait.
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