Anyone who has read a single entry in this blog knows that I have a close relationship with my father. He’s both my biggest fan and harshest critic (probably because he’s my only fan and my only critic). But still, this relationship does not stop me from recognizing his flaws.
Flaws like this one: My dad is a liar.
Since becoming an adult I have become increasingly aware of the lies my father told me while I was growing up. Lies like bats don’t bite (they do) and bugs won’t crawl in your ear (there was a man at the hospital this week with a cockroach in his ear that says otherwise). Or that if I kissed a boy before I turned 37 I would turn into a pumpkin (I never really believed that one, though when I had an incident with spray tanner a week after my first real kiss I did worry a bit).
When confronted about it he said “What was I supposed to do? Tell you the truth? Then you’d have cried.”
I suppose he has a fair point there. If I had known bugs could crawl in your ear I probably would have taped mine off. And if I had realized bats could bite I never would have gone outside again. I definitely would of cried in both scenarios.
But even if his actions were justified, that still won’t stop me from calling him on it.