Truth Be Told

I’ve recently discovered something that says a lot about me, my wife, and my kids.  We want our kids to be honest.  Just not too honest.  I guess that makes us authentic Nashvillians.

Lintilla and I have been operating under the assumption that much of the time Zaphod is spoiled and many times incorrigible.  This doesn’t make much sense, considering the reports his teachers send home singing his praises.  “Are you sure we’re talking about the same child?”, we ask.  There has been no alien abduction as far as we can tell, so yes, the spoiled child we worry over is an absolute angel when not with us.

So, to be fair, we’ve taken a very close look at just what it is he does that drives us so crazy.  And I’ve come to a startling conclusion:  he’s a little too truthful.

The best way of putting it:  our son lacks the skill of tact.  Here’s a good example.  We get home from a grocery run.  We ask, “Would y’all help us get the groceries to the kitchen, please?” Zaphod’s answer: “I don’t want to”.  This infuriates us.  Yet, when we understand who our son is, it makes a lot more sense.

His sister most likely would rather run inside and play Nintendogs than help us with the groceries.  Yet she has learned to either pretend she likes hauling groceries, or at the very least keep quiet about not wanting to do it.  Not Zaphod.  Every single emotion and thought that zips through his brain must be expressed.  I want to be clear: both of our children aren’t too keen on helping around the house.  Yet, because Zaphod actually says so, we call him “bad” and Trillian “good”.

What we want our son to do, what we are trying to train him to do, is to go against his nature.  When visiting someone’s house, we expect him to politely eat the food offered, without (truthfully) saying “I don’t like these black-eyed peas”.  When he’s disappointed in a situation that involves others who are only trying to be nice to him, we expect him to hold that disappointment inside; we want him to politely pretend everything’s OK.

This happened this past Saturday.  Zaphod went to a friend’s birthday party at a place that has bowling, games, bumper cars, roller skating, and laser tag.  They were able to do everything but bowl, because there were no lanes available.  Once Zaphod learned they wouldn’t be bowling, he spent the rest of the time sulking while everyone else was gathered around the birthday boy, watching him open his presents.  Lintilla and I were quite embarrased.

Yet, truth be told, he was honestly expressing how he felt.  And we got mad at him about it.  This, unfortunately, is the Nashville Way.

Not that we have had no success at all.  From a very early age, we have instituted the “grandparent gift rule”.   No matter what the gift, no matter how uncool or irrelevant to their lives it may seem, they are expected to “be excited and happy”.  Even gifts of clothes. (I’m not saying my parents are totally uncool or give gifts that the children don’t like, but I have my own memories of grandparent gift disappointments, so I instituted the rule early on just to save much embarassment later).  We stress this rule so much, even Zaphod goes along with it.

Now, we just want him to extend that mindset to the rest of his interactions with people.  And, I do feel bad about it; in a way we’re asking him to lie.  But this is life in Nashville.  Just as we teach our 4 year olds not to point and say, “Mommy, look how FAT that man is!”, we try to teach our children to not always tell us what’s on their minds.

I think we probably won’t have success until Zaphod becomes a teenager.  One truthful answer to a girl (who really didn’t WANT the truth about how those pants made her look), ought to cure him of his honesty.