Pants on Fire

I will never forget the first parent teacher conference I had for Pumpkin Head. He was three and in pre-school. His teachers adored him, after all he was one cute (and still is) kid. The one thing they kept commenting on was in creative imagination. Like for example, on the first day of school he told the class that he had an indoor sand box in his room. Oh, the teachers just thought he was so darn inventive and I really didn't think much of it, that is until I went to the following year's conference.

The first time you hear your child tells creative stories, you go along with it, you agree with the teachers. However, by the third and fourth time you hear it, from different teachers you begin to call it what it is-lies!

Over the years Pumpkin Head told tall tales to anyone that would listen. Once he told his class that his dad was a police officer, lie. Another time he told his teacher we were moving to another country, lie. The stories went on and on. It took a long time, but eventually we broke him of his story telling habit, just in time for Queenie to start spinning her web of deceit.

Queenie always took it a step farther. In first grade she brought my cell phone to school and told the class it was hers, lie. Let me tell you, the other six year old children were impressed, the teacher not so much. Just this past year she told her classmates that she was adopted, lie.

Okay, yes, Queenie and Pumpkin Head do have great imaginations. In fact, Pumpkin Head writes stories constantly and Queenie is always coming up with some great game to play or adventure to pretend. Although, I can't help but wonder if those "creative imaginations" are being used for good or evil!

I can't complain too much. They come by it honestly, pun intended. I too had a creative imagination as a child. In fact my mother has a second grade journal to prove it. Apparently I was supposed to document what I did over the weekend every Monday. When my mom received the journal at the end of the year she was floored to learn about all the places I went. I had some real adventures, lie. I also used to tell people my name was Susie, lie. The worst thing I did was hold a lemonade sale and tell customers that I was going to give the money to the poor (the poor being my seven year old self), lie. Bad, bad, bad.

I'm sure your thinking, well at least you have Monkey. Oh no! He has a creative imagination too, it's just he's terrible at expressing it. That kid couldn't tell a lie to save his life. His eyes tell the truth even when his lips don't.

So I live in a house full of story tellers. Maybe it's not all bad. Maybe one day they will grow up to write the next American classic. Until then they can keep convincing their teachers that they are allergic to paper.