Lisa F. Young/Shutterstock.com
"I feel pretty bad about this one, but not THAT bad.
It started so innocently. This is back when people were allowed to smoke in designated areas of restaurants.
I would tell the people seating us that we could not be near ANY smokers or any type of smoke because my baby daughter was allergic to smoke and could die right then and there.
In reality, just hated the smoke smell on my children and I thought it was deplorable that they were exposed to it in public places.
My daughter loved 'being allergic' to something, so when she was age two and wanted chocolate or candy, I would say, 'No, sorry honey, you're allergic.'
'Can I drink pop (soda)?'
'No honey you're allergic. How about some yummy milk or juice?'
'Can I touch this knife?'
'No honey, you're allergic to knives. Please give it to mommy.'
This went on the whole time they lived at home, though I admit in high school it got funny.
'Can we watch this scary movie tonight?'
'No honey. We're all allergic to scary movies. The whole family.... allergic.'
I did this with all my 3 children. My daughter called me a few years ago and said that she ate some chocolate and that "nothing happened".
But basically, it worked. One child never did eat sweets as an adult, the other barely eats any, and my daughter just has a few bites of sweets here and there.
They have beautiful teeth too."
"I'm not the parent in this scenario; I'm the child.
My parents had always been keen to educate me and ensure I was always given an answer when I asked the question 'why' (which I have a whole new level of respect for since becoming a godmother, by the way).
As such, I became an avid reader and am currently studying science at university.
This is all well and good, but when your parents are so inspirational, sometimes you take a joke literally.
I was about five and had started reading Anne McCaffrey books. I asked my dad if dragons were real, like the dinosaurs.
He said, sure, they live in Wales; that's why their flag has a dragon on it. This was obviously a joke, but my parents, being an unending fountain of knowledge, meant that I knew he was serious, because why would they do that to me?
How long did I believe in dragons?
Until I was thirteen.
I guess it simply never came up in conversation until then. Luckily, my friend assumed that I was joking. I recovered quickly and went away slightly embarrassed, fuming inwardly at my dad.
I told him for the first time the other day (I'm twenty-five now, by the way). He couldn't stop laughing.
'But you're a scientist, Angel.'
'Yes, Dad. Yes, I am.'
"When my daughter was very young, she would sometimes have nightmares about 'monsters.' She'd wake up terrified and crying. This is not uncommon in small children, especially if they've got an imagination and have been watching too much TV (or hearing their parents talk about elected officials. Sigh.)
I was quite sad every time this happened because I have never enjoyed seeing her frightened or sad. It also resulted in her disturbing my wife and me, and we sometimes could not get back to sleep for hours.
I got a small brass bell and attached it to a metal chain. I wrapped it in special paper and ribbon. I then made a special presentation to her of a 'magic' gift when I returned from one of my trips. I told her I had visited the elves and gotten a magic bell. It would protect her at night from monsters, and if any showed up, all she had to do was ring it and they would be banished forever. We hung it from her bedpost so it was right near her pillow.
My wife thinks she heard the bell once thereafter. Never again did monsters wake any of us up at night.
As she got older, the bell got moved to a drawer, then to storage, and now that she lives elsewhere I don't know where it is. I hope that it is continuing to keep monsters away, however."
Brian A Jackson/Shutterstock.com
"Best lie I've ever told kids? Easy... and I still use it for noisy ones.
Some kids in our old apartment complex were yelling and screaming, playing chase, whatever... I came downstairs and said, 'So, you kids don't really care about using up your screams, do you?'
'What?' they asked. curious. So I sat down and told them 'Well, in your lifetime, you only get a few hundred screams. If you use them all up as a child, you'll never ever be able to scream again... not even if a monster was chasing you!'
To their incredulous comments, I said 'I learned the hard way... listen!' and opened my mouth, and pantomimed a loud scream. Really threw my heart into it. Not a single sound came out! Their eyes went huge and they all looked rather scared.
'It's OK, you can scream when you need to... but don't use them all up.' I cautioned. Ahhhh blissful peace!"
"When your kid learns about Santa, the stories always say that you should leave out milk and cookies for him. So my daughter was all about making homemade cookies and leaving a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. Well, that happened the first year she wanted to do it... I ate a cookie and then bit into one and poured the milk I wasn't going to drink into the sink. I hate milk. The next year, though, I thought ahead. When we were getting stuff together for Christmas, I explained to my daughter that Santa loves Coca~Cola. In fact, he loves it so much that he even advertises for them. Which is totally true, Santa is on all kinds of of print ads and commercials for Coke, and his image even graces the cans during the holiday season. She totally believed me. And I added that because we were serving him homemade sugar cookies, he would probably like Vanilla Coke because it's more dessert compatible. So that year, when she got up, Santa had eaten a cookie, took a bite out of another one, and left behind an empty Vanilla Coke bottle."
"This isn't my best, most creative or even most effective lie, however, it is one that I had to use only 1 hour ago.
Raising 4 boys is not easy; especially alone. The first son was basically a canvas of sorts. A new and frightful journey that I had no idea how to accomplish. Raising him was a learning experience beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I made a lot of mistakes and witnessed many "miracles" along the way. It was him and me against the world! Raising him was my first masterpiece.
8 years later the second boy arrived. Then BAM...BAM , #3 and #4. By the time the 3rd showed up into this world, I, his mother, had learned how to be a master manipulator to very small children. Santa and the Tooth Fairy were nothing! Heck, I had all their phone numbers along with the Easter Bunny, George Washington, and Martin Luther King. Hidden cameras were located in every room, vehicle and telephone pole that they walked by. I was the president of the 'Mommy Club' which was a secret society where all mommies would monitor all children and report daily of all activities the children would take part in. Unfortunately, I once had to bail the Tooth Fairy out of jail for getting into a fight with Peter Pan (not my finest moment). When we take road trips, my children are now in the habit of raising their feet up as we drive over the cattle guards on the road (that one always makes me giggle).
The lie I told today is small but effective. Like most working people, I have two days off each week. My weekends are hectic. Laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning, preparing for the upcoming week, paying bills, handling any problems from the previous week, etc. Children don't understand, nor do I expect them to. However, to drive by a Toys R Us can be like me bumping into Brad Pitt. The boys start screaming and begging for me to stop the car. The word NOOOOO means nothing no matter how many times it is said. They don't understand the concept of money, so being 'broke' doesn't work. Therefore, I told my boys that Toys R Us is closed on my days off.
'But why do they have a bunch of cars out front?'
'Just because a store is closed to the public doesn't mean the employees don't have to work. There is plenty to be done.'
'Next time you get an extra day off can we go there?'
'Of course we can.'
Works every time..."
"I didn't cook much liver because I didn't like it. However, my husband liked it very much. Having had it once, my kids, aged 2 and 6 wouldn't even finish eating it. The little one I think mainly because her brother declared it gross and she did whatever he did.
Trying again, mainly for my husband, I hauled out an early twentieth-century cookbook which said to very thinly slice the liver and gently saute it in butter. When I put it on the table both kids looked at me happily and said something like 'looks yummy, Mommy, what is it?' Quick eye contact with hubby and I said: 'it's a very delicious fish called Biver.'
So, the family favorite is now BIVER!'
"Not me, but my Wife.
My son is almost 7 now, when this happened he was 5, he takes it to be true even now.
So, I was talking to my son about getting my wife a present and was telling him not to tell his mother as it will be a surprise (although she was aware of all this, I was just trying to explain the concept of a surprise to my son, why that is another story). The conversation went like this:
Me: 'Son, I am planning to buy a present for Mamma, we will surprise her with that, what do you think we should buy?'
Son: 'Papa, please don't ask me.'
Me: 'Why? You should tell me what we should get, Mamma will like it.'
Son: 'Papa, if you ask me Mamma will know whats happening.'
Son: 'Mamma thinks inside my mind!'
Me: (as it strikes me whats happening here, I try to control the burst of laughter and tell him) 'OK! OK! but I will block your mind in such a way that she won't be able to capture it, now let's decide on the present.'
Apparently, every time my son was up-to something my wife would interrupt him telling him off, and my son had convinced himself that his Mom already knew whats happening as she could 'Think inside his mind' exact words used by him."
"My first child believes that our having a second child was her idea.
Soon after I found out that I was pregnant with our second, I bought a bunch of books for our 3-year-old about what it means to be a big sister. We read the books for a few days, and then she told me that she had decided that she wanted to have a baby sister. I told her that if we were going to have another baby, we wouldn't be able to decide if we wanted a girl or a boy. I also explained that it would sometimes mean that I would have to take care of the baby, and might not always be able to play with her. We talked about it for a while, about her having a sibling to play with, to teach things to, but that it would also be a lot of work for all of us. Babies cry a lot, I said. She decided that all of that was ok - and she really wanted a baby sister or a baby brother. I told her I would see what I could do.
A few days later I told her I was pregnant. She was thrilled and has always felt that the baby was 'her' baby. She continues to take wonderful care of him (she is now 6, he is 3)."
"Well, I thought it was a good lie. I was in an awkward position. I like to tell my kids the truth, setting a good example. And also, I don't want to be THAT parent.
So, my kid comes home from school, upset that one of the other kids had tricked her into putting up her middle finger, then shouting to the teacher that she was giving him the 'F-Word.'
'Mom, what is the F-word?'
I'm about to tell her straight up when she says
"'ou can tell me; I already know the H word, and the S word.'
Oh no my little one has such a vocabulary! But it's always worth it to question kids so I say 'Oh really? What are those?'
'H is for Hate, and S is for Stupid.'
Now I'm in a rock and a hard place situation of my own making. Be truthful, and be THAT parent?
'F stands for FREAK --- it's not nice to call someone else a Freak!'
I think I'm brilliant for a solid 2 weeks - the full length of time this lie holds. Then I get this:
'Mooooom! You're an idiot! The F-word is not freak! And I've heard you say the real one like a million times.'
I still think I'm brilliant for coming up with a reasonable substitute F-word on the spot."
"This is rather a lie that my mother told my siblings and me.
My sister had a white hamster. My brother and I loved to play with her, but my sister was so awful about sharing her that my mom just got hamsters for my brother and me while we were at camp one day.
We were thrilled when we arrived home to find our new pets, but there was a problem: They wouldn't stop biting us.
My hamster made for a very terrible hamster. He hated emerging from his cage unless it was a desperate bid for freedom. He bit people regularly. In other words, he sucked.
One day, my mother took things into her own hands. My brother and I once again got home from camp and checked our rooms for our hamsters, only to find their cages empty. When we asked, our mother told us she gave them back to the pet store.
We got two new hamsters. (My Mom then told us she gave my brother's hamster back, too; he was too fast and if he got out of his cage, it took half an hour to corner him and stuff him back in.) My brother then got a new hamster.
All of our hamsters lived long hamster-lives. Several years after they had all died, we were staying as guests at someone's house and my mom mentioned how she let our hamsters out in the yard.
'Wait, what?' I spluttered.
'Mom!' my sister demanded.
My mom could hardly speak for laughter. 'It just slipped out!'
'You let them out in the yard?' I shrieked.
'What, do you think I'd let those hamsters bite my children?'
'Maybe they lived outside and died of old age,' I suggested hopefully.
'They probably got eaten by a cat. That's what happens if you bite my kids.'
"Toy Story is real.
I was in Toys R Us one day looking for kid furniture. I handed my daughter a Cookie Monster doll to keep her quiet while I shopped. She was about two at the time. When it was time to go I said something along the lines of, 'Okay, we have to take him back to Sesame Street or else his friends will be lonely.' She ran with it. She talked about the toys missing Woody and Buzz.
'Yep. Just like that.'
She put the toy back on the shelf, told him goodbye, and blew him a kiss. A few days later, she asked if we could go visit 'the store where the toys live.' It turned into an incentive. 'If you eat all your vegetables, I'll let you visit the toys in Target tomorrow.'
Before long, it became routine for us to spend 5--10 minutes in the toy section of a store after she 'did a good job being patient,' while I shopped. She's six now. Even though she knows the truth, it's still ingrained in her to not ask for anything (knock on wood). She asks if we can look at the toys for five minutes or play with the video game displays."
"It was Christmas in Michigan and my cousin Bobby was about 3 and a half years old and very excited about Santa Claus coming to his house. Except for one thing....they didn't have a chimney.
'How will Santa get in?' he asked me and I had to admit, the kid had a very realistic concern.
'Well, Bobby Santa does scouting expeditions. He has to make sure he can get into all the homes, even the ones without chimneys. So he sends out some elves with a couple of reindeer to check. Sometimes he even goes himself . In fact...'
I walk over to the window and peak out the closed shades into the dark sky.
'What's today? Is it Tuesday? Oh, on Tuesdays he goes himself. And I think he's doing this neighborhood tonight. In fact, I bet if you look out the window you'll get to see Santa tonight!'
I kissed him on the cheek, say my goodbyes to my Uncle and Aunt and go home.
When I called to tell my Uncle I was home safe, he was so annoyed with me.
'So Bobby won't go to sleep, because besides the fact that you gave him ridiculous amounts of sugar, he is sitting in the window because he says Santa is scouting in our neighborhood tonight.'
Oh yeah - besides the fact that my Aunt and Uncle said don't give him chocolate, I had given him a brownie mousse pie for his dessert that night so the kid had full sugar and chocolate in his veins (yeah, I know, defying the parents wishes, but it's not like he was allergic or anything....) I'm not sure my Uncle ever got him to go to sleep. I think eventually he fell asleep by the window and they put him to bed. I just love I got him that committed on the hope of spotting Santa on a scouting expedition three weeks before Christmas"
"My mother told me this and I think it was her finest lie ever.
As a kid, I learned to speak very soon. By age 1.5 - 2, I was fluent, talking like an adult - expressing my needs, giving my unnecessary opinions, making cringe-worthy remarks etc.
The world and its wonderful complexity were making me curious and now I had the words to speak about it.
Anything that moved or made a sound amused me. And I had questions and comments on them all.
Birds and animals, cars and trains, colors and music, people and their mannerisms. Everything.
I turned into a GIANT TALKING PARROT. Constantly repeating and mimicking everything people said.
My mother had to stop this as people's ears had gotten sore and I was dancing on their last nerve.
So one afternoon, she sat the 2-year-old me down and explained:
'Shreya, did I ever tell you, your throat has a small voice box? That's where all the voice is stored for talking. Everyone has limited supply.
The way you've been talking these days, at best you've only a few days left before you go completely mute!'
Eyes wide open, I stared at her in terror. What was she saying! This can't be true!
But she did not stop, she really wanted to put the horror in perspective. She continued:
'How will you ever tell me you're hungry? What about all the crying for candy and ice cream?' Sigh, 'we will miss all of it.'
It worked like magic.
Silence. Oh, the sweet sweet silence!"
The Suggest team works tirelessly to provide the most interesting stories, behind-the-scenes details, and fun facts from the Entertainment world in a fun and easy-to-read format. Our articles are guaranteed to entertain you and your friends, no matter your interests.