Little Lies

Dealing with toddler lying is an inevitable truth of parenthood…

One day, you have a precious, cherubic, innocent, little soul wholly dependent on you; the next, he’s been replaced by a little “liar, liar, pants on fire” who’s beginning to embrace his newfound autonomy. The issue of toddler lying has entered the chat…

With the introduction to toddler lying and deceit, as a parent, it’s hard not to spiral. Everyday with a toddler feels like troubleshooting a human. Just when you think you’ve got an issue worked out, a new game-changing bug pops up. Then, it’s back to square one, tackling a new problem. Poorly equipped.

Lack of instruction manual for kids, and all that.

When I consider my Irish twins as newborns and even early infants, yeah, life was brutal. But, in certain ways, it was simpler. Stages were more clear-cut and had expiration dates. We just have to survive teething. Great, teeth cut, we have a minute of peace, where things feel manageable.

Now that they’re toddlers? No. effing. dice.

We work out with Orson and Nova that hitting each other is never okay. They seem to finally grasp that, but potty-training Orson is still in stalls with his OCD and sensory processing issues. Nova’s sensitivity and tantrums are ramping up toward the neurotypical threenager peak…

And now, toddler lying has descended upon our family, a new, sus scourge with which to contend.

This is fine.

So, I’m going to share with you some personal struggles here about the toddler lying and how I’ve learned to address it… But, holy shit, guys. The catastrophizing spiral I started down when the lies began required a HARD pivot. Anyone else, or is it just me?

I had to do some serious disaster control with thought challenging. My patterns of thinking blast me forward about a decade in situations like these. Now, my precious toddler Orson is a teen lying about where he’s been, stealing, and making disastrous life choices. Nova is sneaking out at night, jumping through every loophole, and giving us alllll the gray hairs…

Where do I even start with dissecting the chaotic, intrusive thought patterns?

First of all, with toddler lying, it’s really important to hold two truths about it simultaneously:
1. It’s completely normal, a good sign of the child’s development, and it doesn’t have to be taught to happen.
AND…
2. It still needs to be addressed and disciplined.

So, yeah, it’s normal. It’s even good in this case. But let’s not encourage deceit as a lifestyle choice. At least we can take a collective sigh of relief as parents that toddler lying is not our fault. It’s just our job to correct it.

O_verC_omplicated P_arenting D_rama

This whole issue of toddler lying can be overly complicated (and even triggering) in some cases. After spending the better part of a year working and growing in therapy, my therapist has given me some diagnoses to further refine our treatment goals.

Complex PTSD was the first one. No shocker there. The second one, albeit related to and rooted in the first, was a revelation. I have Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder with some concurrent symptoms of OCD (just not enough daily time disruption to quite warrant a diagnosis).

Why is this worth noting here? Well, one of the cardinal diagnostic criteria for OCPD that fits me like a GLOVE is obsessive overconscientiousness. Basically, I am stubbornly and strictly obsessed with personal character, morality, and ethics. Honesty and truth above all.

I am so hypervigilant and value trust and security so seriously that a gentle manipulation or single lie, whether by omission or otherwise, instantly raises every red flag. Alarm bells start blaring. Danger, danger, danger!

But, pray tell, dear reader: how is Nova lying about drawing in my notebook endangering me? When I literally am in the act of assessing Orson’s pissy shorts with my hand, how does his obvious denial and nonchalant “I’m still dry, Mama” put me in jeopardy?

Calm your tits, Anxiety. Deep breath. They’re toddlers, not sociopaths. Yes, I assure you: there actually is a difference.

Besides…

That irrational, catastrophizing rut that my anxious brain sucks me into? It ends up more like a black hole if I give myself over to it, consuming not only me, but also my children. Now, we’re all feeding off each other in this relentless and endless negative and neurotic feedback loop of a power struggle.

Pull up! Pull up!

Jesus, Take the Wheel…

This next section… Yeah, might be getting into unpopular opinion territory, but I’ve gotta talk about it. I’ve read some “Gentle Christian Parenting” Facebook posts and commentary. Can I just say “Oof!” about some of the things I’ve had to witness with these eyeballs?

First off, I’ve mentioned before: I am a Christian, a God-fearing woman who hopes to build a foundation for her children to share a joyful, fulfilling, lifelong relationship with our Savior. And I’ll also add the caveat that I don’t know all the things that go on in someone else’s home.

BUT…

Anything that verges on creating a toxic, shame-based relationship with Jesus in a toddler’s heart as a method of controlling/suppressing their feelings or neurotypical, developmentally-appropriate behavior can take a fucking leap.

Yeah, I said it.

Granted, these strong feelings come as a direct result of reading comments mentioning doing just that.

Something to the effect of “I tell my young son that only Jesus has ever been a true victim, and He didn’t act like one. Sometimes, even when we aren’t the victim of something, we can act like one” when what behavior she was describing sounded like a young child’s cry for connection.

Translation: Stuff down. Don’t be such a baby. Don’t act like your feelings are hurt. It’s not like you’re being crucified for the sin of the world.

Can’t help but think that dangerous words like that are going to seriously complicate that child’s view of God if not curbed. Speaking from personal experience, I’ve had my mother force me to write essays about the “seven things that God hates”. All it taught me is that the God she wanted me to believe in hated my guts.

Lucky for me, her oppressive version of God is not the One whom I know loves me and gives me any value.

And I certainly teach my children about my God. Very basic, age-appropriate, easily-digestible truths about how much Jesus loves all of us, even when we do wrong. Just like Mama and Papa will always love Orson and Nova even when they make bad choices.

I teach them for foundation, knowing full well that abstract thinking doesn’t really fully come online until around 11-12 years old.

Anyway…

Segue back to toddler lying and how this is related…

I’m not about to start spouting to my 2 year old daughter and 3 year old son that there’s a burning lake of fire in hell reserved for liars when my amazing, innocent children are just starting to develop any rudimentary understanding of right versus wrong.

No, I don’t “spare the rod”, meaning I shepherd my children, alongside my husband, to graciously guide and discipline them as best as I can. Toward conscience development, emotional intelligence, and integrity. Good, strong character with solid discernment between right and wrong. And, most importantly, hopefully, an unshakeable faith in the One who gave Himself to save us all.

The toddler lying is annoying, in need of correction, but it doesn’t mean that my children are evil. Just annoying, learning, and growing.

Jesus Himself said to suffer the little children. I can confidently say that I’m suffering…

This. is. fine. All growing pains.

Toddler Lying: How to Deal

Up to this point, I’ve been trying to convey how I DON’T want to handle toddler lying.

I don’t want to be disciplining my children out of a place of anxiety, fear of a doomsday future, and triggered reactivity. I don’t want to follow a shame-based, condemning methodology of parenting where I strip away my children’s security and intrinsic worth.

Also, I don’t want to discount the fact that a toddler doesn’t know what lying even is when he or she starts dipping toes into deceit. Much less, that it’s a bad thing.

With the fallible human nature that we are all imbued with at birth, we are apt to choose the path of least resistance. Integrity is NOT inherent; it must be taught. For a toddler, lying is a logical means to a quick end of perceived discomfort. He or she simply can’t grasp that telling a lie is damaging if he or she egocentrically assumes it will yield a desired result.

Deep breath.

The lie is not a threat.

It’s my job to, as calmly as I can, set aside my own trigger-points and lifelong experience to empathize with my toddler when the lying starts. Be self-aware and self-examining to see what feelings your toddler lying to you stirs up. Then, get curious.

I will freely admit that I don’t have all of the answers, but I’m always looking for ways to challenge myself and weak areas in which I need to grow. Sometimes, through the OCPD filter, it presents as self-condemnation, but I digress. In these triggering moments, I recognize the ultimate goal.

I want to create a SAFE space where my children, starting at the point of toddler lying, understand that they can freely come talk with me about anything. Am I creating a safe space in how I handle the first little lies? How am I reacting when they do honestly admit failings or struggles to me?

Am I allowing my reactive anxiety or anger to reign or my love to nurture and safe-guard?

So, job number one?

Keep myself in check.

Job number two is to develop an understanding and internal definition for my toddlers of what lying looks like. This can be as simple as asking Orson: “Is that true or a lie?” in the early stages. Sure, my son caught on to this pretty quickly. It didn’t work that long before he began to learn about “doubling-down”.

But, as with most things parenting-related, it’s a long game of building blocks. When he doubles down, I correct. I tell him concretely, “Oh, there’s poop in your pull-up when you told me there wasn’t. That was a lie.” It’s helpful to CALMLY reinforce examples of truth-telling or lying for a toddler.

In this example with Orson, he’s had to be reminded that pooping in his pull-up is not the lie. Telling me that he didn’t is.

Which further illustrates my point:

If a toddler doesn’t know what a lie even IS, how do you tell the toddler that the lie was wrong? Build understanding. Express importance of the lesson. I talk to my toddlers about trust and that lying hurts trust. Trust builds strong, safe love.

It hurts trust when Orson tells me “Papa said I could” when I know Papa didn’t and I’ve told him no about something. He’s just seeking a logical means to a desired end. The trust and the consequences of broken trust are lessons that are taught in the long-game over years and years of development.

I remind myself that toddler lying at this stage means that my children are healthy and so hella smart. It means that they can be talented actors. Super adept at pretend play. Socially adaptable and strong. They are beginning to grasp already that they are autonomous individuals and not extensions of me. That people can hold different thoughts and ideas.

That’s exciting for me as a parent. It’s also fucking scary, but I can’t forever be caught in the anxious worry of what tomorrow could bring. I mean, I could (and frequently have to pull myself from that trap), but whom does the anxious spiral serve? Hopefully, the future will present my children as well-adjusted, honest adults with strong moral integrity if we’ve done our job well.

How do we deal with toddler lying in the mean time?

Not gonna lie to you…

One lie at a time, one day at a time.