The stay-at-home dad The honesty of a preschooler
The honesty of a preschooler
My five-year-old daughter doesn’t mince her words.
She always feels the need to share her opinion, especially if something deviates from her preferred schedule or worldview. She can often be very sweet, but politeness is a foreign concept.
Some of the things she’s volunteered to tell me in the past few days:
“I love you so much, Dad. Just a little bit less than Mommy.”
“I don’t like the hair on your face. It’s HORRIBLE!”
“I am not going to listen to you, because I don’t want to, and you can’t make me listen to you.”
“I don’t like pets. Don’t ever get me a pet.”
“Dad, why do you always set the house on fire when you cook?”
I’ve never set the house on fire. Okay, I did one time, but it wasn’t my fault, and insurance took care of it, and that was FOUR YEARS AGO. Does the smoke alarm chirp sometimes when I’m cooking in the kitchen? Yes, but that’s because it’s very sensitive, and it only happens 40 percent of the time at the most.
Whether based on truth or not, she’s always ragging on me. During bedtime routine, she likes to sit in Mom or Dad’s lap and be rocked while listening to three songs - “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” the “I Love You” song from Barney, and the Bryan Adams power ballad, “Heaven” sung in the style of Elisabeth Moss from the 2019 punk rocker/drug addiction film, “Her Smell” (Google it. It’s GREAT).
Every time it’s my turn to do the routine, my five-year-old offers criticism throughout, interrupting me any time I pause to take a breath.
“Your breath is stinky. Did you brush your teeth today?”
“Mom sings ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ and THEN ‘I Love You.”
“It’s not ‘Up above the world so high,’ it’s “Up above the sky so high.’”
I’ve triple checked this particular point. The line is most definitely “Up above the world so high.” We still argue about it.
She knows she can be too honest, and that it often comes out beyond her control. It’s most evident when it comes time to fess up to trouble, because she often excuses herself from the room before being forced to answer a question that could incriminate her.
Me: “Did you spill this water all over the floor?”
Her (yelling): “I can’t talk right now! I’m going downstairs to GET SOMETHING!”
And in a flash, she’s gone.
She still tries to practice lying, most often taking every opportunity to frame her three-year-old brother. The poor guy gets blamed for everything - stealing sweets, making messes, etc. Even when I catch her in the act, like, say, I actually witness her punching him over a toy dispute, she attempts to weave in some alternate facts.
Me: “Why are you punching your brother?”
“I am not punching him. He is punching me!” she says, as she punches him.
If, however, you apply a little pressure, her honesty cracks through on most occasions.
Me: “Did you steal that cupcake off the counter?”
Her: “I did not. I swear I didn’t eat it!”
Me: “Was the frosting still soft and creamy, or was it a little dried out?”
Her: “A little dried out, but it tasted good.”
Me: “So you did eat the cupcake?”
Her: “I need to go downstairs and get something.”