Over-sharing

Yesterday the kids went out to play in the yard. As usual, I roared after them the pearls of wisdom passed down through the generations: “Watch out for the dog poop, stay off the retaining wall or you’ll fall and crack your head open, and close the door.” (It’s amazing how many things could have cracked my head open when I was a kid!).

Eventually the kids wanted to go out front to play road hockey. When we ventured out there was a boy from a few houses down –a second-grader from another school who we didn’t know – circling the cul-de-sac on his bike. We invited him to play and he dismounted and bounded over to our yard.

In the three minutes it took me to set up the net and get the sticks, I heard this boy impart bizarre and terrible truths (or an 8-year-old’s version of truth) about his family, all of them he shared without a second thought.
His dad had a ladybug crawl into his ear and had to have surgery.
His older brother struck and killed a child with his truck, and their mom went crazy.
He doesn’t have to ask permission to go anywhere or do anything – he just goes.

I shudder to think about what my kids must say about us when we aren’t there.
“My parents yell at us. All. The. Time.”
“My mom sits on the computer and doesn’t play with us.”
“My dad says mommy should start drinking to get through the day.”

Okay, so while Bryce has said that last one in jest, it isn’t something, to my knowledge, the kids have said but I can just imagine it popping out at sharing time at preschool.

I guess it’s our fault for teaching our kids the virtues of honesty without the subtle art of filtering and judgement. I guess that will come in time. Hell, it won’t be long before they are mortified by our existence and won’t even acknowledge us. In the meantime I guess they will continue to regale their teachers and friends’ parents with tales of beer consumption, bad habits, and God only knows what else. So to all of Carmen and Ben’s friends’ parents: remember – it’s not true. Or at least not completely.