Cherry Trees

Tucker is my darling 7 year old who has had quite a sticky relationship with truth lately. If he thinks telling the truth will help his cause, he is all for it. However, if he thinks the truth might land him into some trouble, he has no trouble hopping on board a rowboat and leaving quite the tall-tale in his wake.

Scott and I came to a decision long ago that the telling the truth would never be punished. There might be consequences for what happened, but you would never, ever be punished for telling us the truth. We wanted to encourage our kids to be honest and freely confess wrong doings. When Dawson was throwing a ball in the house and broke my favorite vase,  his immediate confession that it was his fault meant no lecture or punishment; however, he did have to clean up the broken pottery. Truth meant no punishment so he was allowed to continue laying ball outside, consequences meant he had to clean up the pottery first. It's not always an easy standard to live out with the kids, but it seems to be worth it.

Tucker is different in that he wants so badly to avoid pain of any sort. He is the kid who absolutely will not do anything risky until he is one-hundred percent convinced he will not be hurt. It took him most of the summer to go off the slide at the pool because he was sure it would hurt. When he finally went down because a life-guard promised to catch him, he spent the last few remaining swim days on the slide having the time of his life. It's not that he's cowardly -- he just hates pain of any sort.

Which is also true of emotional pain. Tucker loves to be helpful and he enjoys doing for others. He is only 7, though, so occasionally what he thinks will be helpful ends up on the sliding scale of slightly to horribly wrong. He also really likes to do his own thing from time to time, which may or may not be within the boundaries of allowable behavior. We are all well aware of the tell-tale clues to a Tucker induced calamity but when asked if he has any information about whatever pickle may have occurred, Tucker's standard answer these days is, "Uh, nope."

I hate it. I absolutely, unequivocally hate when one of my kids lies to me. And I especially hate it when it is over something that seems to me to be so unbelievably ignorant to lie about. Tonight, I asked Tucker if he could please tell me where the remote to the upstairs TV was. He and the twinners had cozied up in the big bed while I brushed my teeth this morning and Tuck had turned on the Disney Channel. When I went to put the remote away after everyone had gone downstairs I couldn't find it, so I made a mental note to ask Tuck about it later. I knew he was the last one to have it. I knew he would know where it was because he has an incredible memory. And I knew it would just be easier to ask him rather than spend time trying to figure it out myself. At bedtime, I finally managed to ask him about the remote after I had called him to my bedroom for a moment.

"Tuck, can you please tell me where the remote is?"

"Which remote?"

"The TV remote. I can't find it."

"Which remote?"

"The one you were using this morning."

"Uh, nope."

"Tucker -  I know you were using it this morning. I know it has been missing since you used it. I know you have some information to give me. This isn't a big deal."

"Uh, nope. I didn't do anything with it." Strategic shaking of the head side-to-side while looking up at the ceiling = busted.


"Tucker, do NOT lie to me again. Where. Is. The. Remote." Mother-son stare down begins. I win this round.

"I put it behind there [points at clock] so Elias wouldn't get it and then I heard a crash and it was gone."

"Did it fall behind the bookshelf?" Tucker nods, and I pull out four books on the bottom shelf below the alarm clock. Sure enough, there is the remote and I have to acknowledge that I would have never looked there. I sighed and then met Tucker's worried eyes.

"Tuck, why on earth would you lie about that?"

"I just didn't want to get in trouble."

"Why would your trying to protect the remote from Elias get you into trouble? It was an accident. They happen."

Tucker shrugs.

"You know what Tuck? I hate that I can't trust you anymore. Your lying is hurting me and it's hurting you. [I actually start to cry,which rarely happens] I hate it when you lie, Tuck. It hurts."

Tucker stared at my face and then walked to his bedroom. I came in pretty quickly after he had gotten there, but he was already curled under his quilt and crying softly. Dawson, looking alarmed asked, "What happened to Tucker?" I said it was between Tucker and I before I spent the next several minutes tucking the rest of the boys into bed. Then, I climbed onto Tucker's bed with him and we laid there for just a few minutes, nose to nose.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked softly.

"Mom - I feel so bad."

"Why?"

"Because I lied to you. Because dad told me that a man doesn't lie. Because it hurt your heart. Because it made you cry. And I'm supposed to love you and I hurt you and dad and God."

"Was it worth it?"

"No. I don't like feeling like this. I think it would be better to just get in trouble."

"Well, I don't think it would feel better at first, but I think it will feel better sooner. I make mistakes and sometimes it's hard to look at someone and say that you're sorry. But after you say you're sorry, then you get to help make it better, and that part usually feels good. Not always, but usually. When you lie, you don't ever get to the good part."

"I want to get to the good part."

During his bedtime prayers, Tucker asked God to help him not lie anymore and to remember to be a man who doesn't lie. I hugged him as tight as I could before kissing him goodnight and leaving the room.

I don't expect there to be a miraculous turn around because habits can be tough to break. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like my boy just might see that honestly really is the best policy.