Kids don’t lie. I think all mothers can attest to their child’s blunt honesty up to a certain age. They have yet to learn how to take other’s feelings into consideration, so they answer the only way they can. It’s a part of the magnificent innocence associated with youth.
I know that if I ever want a true opinion of how I look on any given day, I just need to ask Jedi. At 8, he’s still as brutally honest as they come. Never does he miss a chance to tell me that he doesn’t like how I fixed my hair or if my breath doesn’t smell so pleasant. He’s caring, that way.
He’s not the only one, however. Buzz has openly stated his opinion on the freckles on my face and his grandfather’s white hair.
Neither of them tell it like it is like Abby, however. 3 years old is a ripe age for curiosity. And honesty. When her grandpa goes in for a kiss when she doesn’t want it, she thinks nothing of pushing him away. “I’m not talking to you”, she’ll inform whomever when she’s not in the mood. “You’re big”, with a scrunched nose is another favorite. And we won’t get into what she says when she watches me in the shower.
The other day when my parents were over for a visit, she followed her grandma into the bathroom. I heard them giggling a bit long after they were done. When they emerged, it seems my mom had a taste of her candor.
“Your daughter told me I had a big butt”, my mother repeated, utterly shocked.
To which my dad, snapping quickly in laughter, “Well, you know little kids don’t lie”.
And apparently, neither does my father. I guess honesty runs in the family.