Do you remember testing out fibbing when you were a kid? I remember my first fib. I was young, 2-3 probably, we were leaving our trailer and I remember my dad looking down and asking if I was picking my nose. I said no, even though I had been. He had obviously seen me and I am sure my voice wavered with hesitation in my answer. I still suck at lying. Badly suck at it. Best just for me to not exaggerate, fib or lie, because if I am not seen through right there, it WILL come back to haunt me later. (In fact… I have a funny story… will put it at the end.)
Leif fibbed to me yesterday. We have a new nap tactic, he has “quiet time” now. He goes potty, gets a drink of water, gathers up toys and books to play with on his bed during “quiet time” and sits on his bed for naptime. During the three days of this method he has been asleep within 15-30 minutes of the start of quiet time. A record. I know he is going to fall asleep, he is obviously tired, but simply telling him he doesn’t have to sleep, just sit and play on his bed, seems to buy us a ton of mileage and with no tears.
We aren’t hardcore about him staying in bed. He is newly potty trained and I don’t want him hesitating to get out of bed to go use the potty. So on the occasion that he has gotten out of bed for no good reason, we simply gently remind him that during “quiet time” he needs to stay on his bed.
Sunday I heard suspicious noises coming from his room. I opened the door and went in. There he sat on the bed holding his elephant knobs off his dresser. Something he didn’t take with him into quiet time earlier. I asked him where those came from?
“They broke!” he told me, “elephants walk over play quiet time.”
“Oh, they came to see you?” I asked, “you didn’t go pull them off the dresser?”
“No,” he tells me, “I stay bed.” He was so serious and convincing. Then it dawns on me and fills me with fright that he didn’t get my transparency at lying.
I had to turn around to leave then because I didn’t want him to see me cracking up laughing.
Ok, so my funny story… my MIL for our birthdays sent us a check. But she missed one minor detail… it wasn’t signed. We talked about what we should do… don’t deposit it or mention it was AB’s suggestion. But I worried that what if she kept close track of her register (like my mom does) and would start to wonder. We finally decided that he should just let her know that it wasn’t a big deal, but the check wasn’t signed, just so she knew what happened and why the check didn’t go in.
She laughed, of course, and then told AB to tell me to forge her signature and deposit it. AB’s handwriting sucks, so the task was given to me. I neurosed and stressed about this last night! I had a trip to the bank on the schedule for today so if we were going to deposit the check, I needed to forge the signature.
I got out a piece of paper and practiced. I wasn’t one of those kids who ever had reason to forge a signature growing up. So I sucked at this task! AB laughed at me as I had him analyze my upswoops and my number and shape of lumps and bumps on my n’s and m’s. It is hard forging someone’s signature! Particularly when you don’t have something with their actual signature on it. Thankfully our last names are the same and she had written that on the check!
Finally the time of truth comes. I pull out the check and grab a black pen. I drew the “C” and then I choked! The pen I was using was far finer than the pen she wrote the check out with! I willed myself to go on, it would look far more suspicious if I changed pens at that point. I told myself for all I know she signs all her checks first and then writes them out. Ok, so yeah, she probably doesn’t…
Finally, success! I tell AB that the check is going into the ATM and not the drive-up teller I normally use during the day because I don’t want to hand the check to anyone. He laughs at me.
I got to the bank today and the drive-up ATM is out of order! Figures! I drive to the teller and put the questionable check in the middle of the others, put it in the amazing flying cylinder and I wait.
The speaker clicks on!
“Mrs. NM,” the teller says, “We seem to be having a problem.”
I nearly choke. My heart starts pounding. I can hardly breathe. My face is turning 500 shades of red. I just know I am busted.
“I can’t seem to read one of the numbers in your account number you wrote on your deposit slip.”
A very bad liar I am. Good thing I don’t work in sales… my blood pressure would be through the roof!