Having read some wonderful parent confessions on Twitter at @HashtagDadSquad and their #DadFessions (check it out), I decided to get a couple off my chest.

Now there are the usual ones I heard from adults when I was a kid; such as “If you eat the pips an apple tree will grow in your stomach;” and when making a face: “If the wind changes you’ll stay like that.” Here’s a couple – perhaps a little more elaborate – I’ve told Fidget & Little Man that have become borderline folklore in our little home.

Belly Buttons:

The first one I’d like to share amazed me, firstly because I didn’t plan it; and, secondly, because of where the idea came from. The source of this little white lie stems from a bit of a phobia Fidget & Little Man’s mummy has. She’s not going to thank me for this, but I think it’s important that I out her! Mummy is not a fan of anyone touching her belly button. I learnt very early on in our relationship – on pain of death, or at least risking expulsion to the spare room – that her belly button was off limits. Mummy’s belly button is a strict no-go area. Got it? I know! I don’t get it either.

So if I want to wind her up or put my head on the block – you know, just for the fun of it – I can just brush her midriff with a quick glance of my fingertips and the world crashes in on itself. Or worse still, if I quietly coax the kids into prodding said belly button, mummy’s hackles rise and my world comes tumbling down. Yes, every now and again when I’m feeling particularly evil or a tad bored, I will get Fidget or Little Man to sneak up and try and touch mummy’s belly button.

So how does this lead us to a parent confession? Well, probably from my dire need to deflect mum’s evil stare away from me after one such breach of decorum had taken place. On one occasion, Fidget was laughing so much at mummy’s reaction and trying to add insult to injury by prodding mummy’s navel that I had to interject. Things were going too far. I needed to distract Fidget. And the first thing that came to mind was “if you push mummy’s belly button too much you might unscrew it and her bum will fall off!” Fidget stopped in her tracks; a look of amazement in her young eyes.

Little White Lies Belly Buttons and the Sucker Pit

I’d found something new: “It’s true, Fidget,” I emphasised eagerly, “if you unscrew your belly button, your bum falls off!”

So I would chase Fidget round the house joking that I was going to unscrew her belly button so that her bum fell off. This has been going on for a couple of years, and her bum hasn’t fallen off yet, but it has been the cause of some hilarious moments.

But now that she’s five, she questions the whole concept of the belly button being directly attached to the bum. I don’t think she fully believes me anymore, but there’s still enough doubt and gullibility in her eyes for it to continue for a while.

The Sucker Pit:

Our second little white lie – I say ‘our’ but probably mean mine – revolves around hair. Now mummy being Spanish-Portuguese has a great head of long flowing black hair. Fidget has a wonderful shock of golden-brown hair with lots of long ringlets falling loosely down her back. She is very proud of her hair. Little Man, who is two, has the same lovely hair colouring as Fidget and a very strong hairline. I don’t envisage him going bald early in life. As for me: I’m ‘follically’ challenged. It appears to be hereditary in my family on my mother’s side. My brother, great-uncles and grandfather are or were all bald. There is a reason for all the detail. Please bear with me, I’m setting the scene.

When I was a very young child, I was in awe of my granddad’s bald head. When he was sitting in his favourite armchair, I would walk up behind him and run my hand over his head because it was so smooth. I used to ask him why he didn’t have any hair. A question that Fidget has asked me too whilst running her hand over my bald pate. So she received an answer based on a little story my granddad told me about how he lost his hair.

Little White Lies Belly Buttons and the Sucker Pit

Now, my granddad was a coalminer from a family of coalminers in south Wales, and the story he told me was a lot less mundane than an explanation of hereditary male pattern baldness. So Fidget was sitting on my lap looking curiously at my bald head, and the story began.

“A long time ago, daddy’s granddad was a coalminer. Coalminers work very deep underground and dig for coal. There were lots of deep dark tunnels in the mine where he worked. On very windy days the wind blows down the deep tunnels and rushes deep into the mine. Now because the mine goes very deep underground there’s nowhere else for the wind to go, but down, down to the darkest deepest pit. The wind rushes down the mine to the very bottom, swirling round and round, faster and faster like a little hurricane until it becomes a ‘sucker pit’. The wind trapped in the sucker pit waits until the miners are looking the other way, then, swirling quicker and quicker, until it can’t go any faster, the wind shoots out of the sucker pit and back up the mine like a whirlwind and sucks the miners’ hair off as it goes by! Now, I was never a miner, but because I didn’t believe my granddad, he took me down the mine to show me where it happened. And guess what, it happened again! And just like my granddad, I lost all my hair in the sucker pit!”

Fidget never wants to visit the sucker pit. Oh no! And I don’t blame her because her hair is much too nice!

Thanks for reading.

Do you have any little white lies you’d like to share? We’d love to hear them.







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