Lying to My Kids

Back in the early 1970's, I remember a particular family gathering at our home. Being the youngest of the kids, I wanted desperately to hang out with and annoy my older, cooler cousins. Understandably, they wanted nothing to do with me. And so they did the only proper thing and suggested (strongly) that I go outside, stand patiently before the traffic light, and not come back in until it turned purple. As a 6-year-old boy, this made perfect sense.

And so I waited. Patiently. Hopefully. Then sorrowfully. Eventually, as I finally realized that they were messing with me, a proud smile crept across my face. I could literally feel previously dormant synapses firing as I attempted and passed my first test at sarcasm.

And here we are today. I'm now the father of two children. And, alas, history repeats itself. Sorry kids.