Innocence Takes a Hit

He lied. And he lied to me, his daddy. And I must admit, it doesn't feel good.

Didn't expect this one so early in my journey through daddyhood. I mean, I expected him to lie, but I didn't expect him to take it to this level and I didn't expect it would hurt me so much.

Sonwun is not quite four yet. And for the most part he's been pretty honest with me.

"What happened?"

"I hit my little brother and made him cry."

And other times:

"Did you just hit the dog with that hockey puck?

"Yeah."

He knew what he did was wrong, he knew punishment would follow, but he was honest with me. It's what I expect from him and, even though there is discipline, there is an acknowledgment from me that he did the right thing by telling the truth.

That changed last night. And I'm not sure why it bothers me so much, which is why I'm writing about it. It helps me sort things out when I put them on paper (or into the computer). You all are along for the ride. Bear with me.

So after supper last night, as part of the standard, rambunctious activities that are what make Sonwun's world go 'round, he bopped the dog on the head with one of his Bakugan balls. (What the heck are those things anyway? What's the point? What is one supposed to do with them? They came in a Happy Meal and I just don't get them. But I digress).

He knows he's not supposed to hit the dog, he's been told that a hundred times, so he was sent upstairs to his room for five minutes of bed-sitting. Legs over the side, no toys, no blankets, just sit and think about what happened.

Well, about two minutes into the five-minute major, I hear him start wailing and calling for me.

"My tummy hurts, oooooo, Daddy, my tummy hurts! Ooowwwwwww."

Now about a year and a half ago, he had a NASTY tummy ache that started with a trip to the Gimli hospital for examination and X-rays and ended with a trip to the children's hospital in Winnipeg, in the middle of the night, for further examination and, possibly, an ultrasound. Gimli doctor suspected a hot appendix. It was ruled out in Winnipeg and determined to be a nasty case of trapped gas in the intestines.

A few good farts and all was well. Unless of course you were in the van on the drive back from Winnipeg with him. But we were just relieved (as was he) that he was okay.

So, last night, I go running up the stairs, because the fuss he was making sounded a little like it did 18 months earlier. I laid him back on the bed and probed his stomach. He didn't react to anything that would make me think the probing was causing pain. Didn't feel anything weird in his stomach area. So I sat him up again and told him he could come downstairs where I could keep an eye on him on the couch.

Well, he gets downstairs and the first thing he notices is that Sontoo has one of his toys. And he starts complaining and demanding the return of this most important toy on the planet. (Which, for the record, is always whatever toy his younger brother is holding).

And, of course, I notice that the stomach ache had magically disappeared.

"Sonwun, how's your tummy ache?"

"It's all gone."

"All gone??"

And at that moment it hit me. Not only did he lie to get out of his punishment, but he put on an Oscar-worthy performance to enhance the lie. And I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. He played on my Daddy instincts, my concern for his well-being and, like any good actor, drew on his past life experiences for motivation.

And it hurt. In the interrogation that followed, he admitted he was lying. His tummy didn't really hurt.

But now mine did. That piece-of-lead-in-the-stomach kind of hurt.

My innocent child, my beautiful little boy, had looked me in the eye and lied in order to minimize a punishment.

And yeah, I know. There's more to come. It's human nature blah, blah, blah. Get used to it, blah, blah, blah. You should see my teenager, blah, blah, blah.

But firsts, while sometimes a joy, can also be a real heart-breaker. Especially firsts like this one.

I have, to this point, trusted him when I've asked, "Why is your brother crying?" And that is because, at least 50 per cent of the time, he'll say something like, "Because I threw a truck at his head."

It makes the other 50 per cent of the time, when he says things like, "Sontoo fell off the couch," ring true. I knew that if he'd committed assault, he'd fess up. And the evidence almost always confirmed his story.

Last night I was, at first, very angry. But I knew I needed to talk to him about it. And so, drawing from Rodney Dangerfield in Back to School, I sat him down and told him, "Sonwun, I am your father. You don't lie to me, you lie to women."

No, I didn't. I was too messed up to talk to him beyond explaining what a lie is (again) and why they are not something we want to hear from him, especially when it comes to medical emergencies. Personally, I had to process this event, so he was sent back to his bedroom to think about what we'd discussed.

I spent the rest of the night sulking, thinking and sulking some more. Sonwun will be starting preschool next week, two days a week, and so I will be losing a little of my sole ownership, my exclusive right to temper his strong little character and my exclusive ability to try to guide him toward the kind of man I want him to be.

Yeah, I know, I'm attaching way too much to this little transgression. But, to me, it's a milestone I'm not ready to hit. Little boys will lie. Sadly, it's human nature. And this day was going to come.

Innocence takes a hit and daddy's heart bleeds.

Once more, I know I'm making more of this than necessary. But this is how I'm feeling right now. I'll get over it, life will go on. Today, it just sucks.