From my perspective, plenty of parents stretch the truth with their children from time to time.

I see falsehoods as unacceptable whether aimed at grown-ups or young ones. This outlook makes me avoid them entirely. My spouse honors my view even if he occasionally shares a small untruth with our child. Over the ten years I have been a parent, I have steered clear of any such statements.

I do not consider myself superior to fellow parents, nor do I judge others for minor deceptions. I simply decided early on to parent in fresh ways, and this choice fits that plan.

Avoiding lies does not require full disclosure

It does not mean revealing every private matter. Children do not require every fact, even when they pose questions.

I stayed somewhat general when she inquired about a family member ending her marriage soon after the wedding: "He made a serious mistake that caused her pain. She cannot move past it," I explained, and that closed the topic.

I accept that some matters can stay unclear for good, that certain talks can wait, or that revelations can come in ways suited to her age (such as explanations about where babies come from). Yet on the matter of avoiding any false statements, I have stayed steady.

She questioned whether Santa was real

I never stated that Santa was real, yet as a young child she picked up the idea from playmates, relatives, and holiday ads. I found it charming and allowed the belief to continue. Why end the enjoyment early?

When she grew a bit older and asked me directly if Santa existed, I answered with interest: "Hmm, what do you think?" This led her to think out loud and weigh the possibilities herself. I listened during the school drop-off line, offering nods. I also noted that many people, including classmates, hold the belief, so it would be kind not to voice doubts around them. She understood and headed to class. I was fortunate the exchange unfolded this way. It let me keep my no-lies rule while preserving a cherished childhood idea I recall warmly from my own past.

Other typical cases, such as explaining a pet fish passing away, admitting a dinner item when resistance was likely, or confirming whether I completed every request, receive the same honest treatment from me.

These talks were not always simple. They covered her first talk about loss, her reluctance to sample certain foods, and my admission that I had not watched her toy while she was away at school because I overlooked it.

Truthfulness has strengthened our bond

If she asks my view on the makeup she applied to my face, I praise her inventiveness and note how enjoyable the session was. I skip any claim that the bright pink shade suits me best. This habit has created deeper trust and closeness. She expects straight answers from me and rarely questions what I share.

As a parent I know the instinct to shield children. Yet with lies, adults often shield themselves instead. We seek simpler paths, which is understandable. We might claim a spot is shut rather than admit fatigue. We might assure a child the spider has vanished to ease bedtime rather than say its location is unknown.

Still, dodging unease does not justify untruths to my daughter. Beyond viewing lies as wrong, I feel she merits the facts. If honesty ranks among the values I hope to pass on, I must model it through my own words.