When honesty is not always the best policy

IHAVE always tried to be honest with my children, tried to truthfully answer their questions, explain why things were the way they were and to admit when I was wrong.

This was a rule that had exceptions; when they were little there was the standard seasonal truth bend. As they got older I did debate the advisability of confessing I had not in fact been Little Bo Peep as a teenager, when they asked questions beginning with “Did you ever…?”

I never really worked out what the right way to go with that one was. Over time there were lies to protect them and there were lies to protect me but I like to think that overall honesty was the most pursued policy.

My life is in a whole new phase now, one that has seen me dipping my middle-aged toes in the waters of dating. I didn’t really expect to be visiting those particular waters but sure, you’ll be a long time dead and while you’re not you may as well have some fun.

My way of controlling the things that scare me is to keep them to myself, so I made my dating debut and told no-one. But just because something feels new or scary doesn’t mean it actually is, and as it began to feel less of a peculiar thing to do I told people. Some of the stories are so stupid it’s a crime against humanity not to let your loved ones share your ridicule.

The people I was terrified to tell however were the two I had given birth to. And the longer I didn’t tell them the more difficult it got. But I finally bit the bullet and confessed. “Ah yeah, we know.” Sorry, what? They had been discussing it apparently, swapping notes and laughing at my attempts at subterfuge. “And anyway, you’re a crap liar.” Clearly honesty is not the best policy if you’re aiming to hide things from your kids.