It was Miss Scarlet, with the candlestick, in the Library.
Remember that game? Clue (Cluedo outside the U.S.) was invented in England in 1944. It was the original who-done-it game; collect bits of information to find out who committed the crime.
I’ve been reminded of fond memories of playing this beloved board game as I have been playing my own, modern-day form of the game with my children as of late.
Trying to get any information out of two little boys requires quite the investigation and interrogation. And even then, you are left wondering if the information provided holds any truth at all?
Nobody wants to confess to anything at my house. Who hit whom first? Who made a mess in the bathroom? Who wrote on the wall? Who started it?
Wasn’t me. Couldn’t be!
Of course both of my children profess their complete innocence to everything with no associated guilt, staring up at me with those sweet little faces and honest eyes.
If it wasn’t them, it’s evident we have an unannounced person currently residing in our home. Perhaps this is cause for concern?
But I know better. How have they gotten so good at avoiding the truth already?
I try to explain, the fact that you get yourself into more trouble when you don’t come forward. This doesn’t faze them.
I try to guilt them into telling the truth. Nothing.
I try to pull them apart and interrogate them on an individual basis. It was always the other brother.
We learn at a young age all about lying. Bypassing the truth, we should say, to keep us from getting in trouble.
If we are honest with ourselves, we all bend the truth to some degree. We try to reason that some fabrications of the truth are meaningful, while others are only little white lies. As adults, we most often find ourselves stretching the truth to protect someone else’s feelings. It’s what is polite after all.
Your wife asks you if her pants make her look fat. You would never say yes, whether or not they do.
Your best friend gets a new haircut. You tell them it looks great, even if it doesn’t.
Your grandmother made her famous pumpkin pie, but something is not quite right about it this year. Perhaps she forgot the pumpkin this time? You eat it anyway.
Yes, in some form or fashion, we all lie — a little. So ultimately, our kids are learning from the best. The difference is children don’t really understand the gray area when you tell variations of the truth.
And kids will choose to be brutally honest at the most inopportune times. They don’t mind at all to point out things to people that you would rather not have them draw attention to.
When you pull them aside later and ask them what they were thinking, they remind you, they were just doing what you told them to do. After all, you say to always tell the truth.
Point taken. If you don’t want to know the real truth, certainly don’t ask a child.
Perhaps we have something to learn from the honesty of kids. If we were all as honest as a child is capable of being, the world might be a better place.
Lies, when they are better or easier for you, may not always have the positive outcome you thought they would.
The truth (when sweetened a little) is all anyone can really ask of you.
