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Look, I’m not proud of it.
Okay… maybe just a little.
It was a hot afternoon, we were both melting, and the shrill little jingle of the ice cream truck came drifting down our street like a siren song.
My son’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas and his birthday rolled into one.
He whipped his head toward me and shouted, “MAMA ICE CREAM!”
And without thinking — without planning, without blinking — I said:
“Oh no, baby… the music means they’re all out.”
There was a pause. He looked at the truck, then back at me.
The truck rolled on by, still singing its happy little song of sugar and chaos.
My child nodded solemnly, accepting this bizarre twist of fate.
And just like that, the danger passed. No tears. No chasing the truck barefoot. No desperate scramble for cash.
The Lies We Tell (For Survival)
Parenting is full of beautiful truths… and tiny, ridiculous fibs.
Like “the toy store is closed today” or “carrots help you see in the dark.”
These are the harmless little myths we invent when our brains are fried and our patience is running on fumes.
This one? This was self-preservation in its purest form.
We didn’t have the energy for a sugar crash.
We didn’t have the money for another spontaneous $5 rocket pop. We just needed to get through the day.
And honestly? It worked.
I felt like a mastermind. A bedtime-story-spinning, peacekeeping genius.
A little guilty, sure. But also… kind of victorious?
Honoring the Magic (While Staying Sane)
Here’s the thing: I’m not here to advocate for constant lying.
I want to raise a kid who trusts me, who knows truth and wonder can coexist. But I also believe in gentle parenting myself, too.
Sometimes, we moms have to get creative — to protect our peace, stretch our budgets, and preserve those last few shreds of patience.
So if you’ve ever pulled a similar move — told them the batteries ran out when they didn’t, or that broccoli makes you run faster — I see you.
You’re not a bad mom. You’re a tired, clever, wonderfully imperfect one doing her best.
And let’s be real: one day, my kid will figure it out. He’ll laugh. I’ll laugh. And we’ll probably go get ice cream together — music blaring and all.
P.S. What’s the funniest little “parenting fib” you’ve told to save your sanity? Tell me in the comments — I won’t judge. I might just borrow it. 😉
