True Confession #3 - I Pulled Sweet Thing's Tail - Really

When I was a little girl, I would shamelessly lie to my mother. Every child goes through this stage at some point (don't they?) and I was no exception. I would lie about brushing my teeth. "Did you brush your teeth?" my mom would ask. "Yes," I would reply. Sensing my lie, she would check to see if the toothbrush was wet (I was a slow learner) and boy if she caught me lying would I ever "catch it". That was back in the days when a child's self-esteem was much less important. Emphasis was placed on telling the truth. By telling the truth you felt good morally and physically, if you lied, well then, you didn't feel so good afterward physically or morally.

The biggest and most elaborate lie I ever concocted gained my legs a good switching with a limber branch from Mrs. Price's shrubbery.

Spending the night with a friend when I was a girl was a big treat; spending the night at my friend Amy's house was.....ADVENTURE. As I packed my Barbie suitcase and hiked the short walk up the hill to her house, I could feel the excitement in the air. She had twin beds in her room and for thrills we would jump from one bed to the other. It was dangerous. We lived for danger! I had been caught jumping on my own bed at home and was swiftly rebuked. Our bed antics was unacceptable at Amy's house too, we just hadn't been caught. Yet. Before I left that evening my mother reminded me, "No jumping on the bed!" "Okay Mom," I replied sweetly.

Now I ask you, how many blatant lies must a girl tell and be harshly punished before she gets it through her feather stuffed brain that lying will get you in trouble every single time? Apparently, for me it was several.

It was inevitable - the bed jumping and lying. The temptation and peer pressure was more than I could handle on that fateful day. At seven years old, Amy was the most persuasive person I knew. She could talk me into anything. Faintly, in the back of my mind I could hear my mother's words, "No jumping on the beds," but like the song of the Siren, Amy's voice summoned me to join her in our bed jumping game. I was weak. WEAK I say!

After one has jumped from bed to bed - say eighty or ninety times - one begins to feel tired. Such was the case for me. Exhaustion should have been my "stop now" indicator but again, I was a slow child. Bo-ing went the spring. Crash went the girl. Silence. Blood. Screaming. Rather than landing on the soft mattress, I hit the foot board and crashed on the floor cutting my arm on the bed rail as I went down. Amy's mother came running of course. I was immediately doctored and bandaged and really I was not hurt bad, mostly my feelings. But the bed jumping rug had been yanked out from under us never to be experienced again.

It was not until I was on my way home the next day that it occurred to me my mother would ask me how I cut my arm. Panic immediately struck, I broke out in a sweat, the short walk home became my green mile. I was marching to my death. Unless.....could I pull it off? Was it a good thought through story? Were there holes? Yes, I might could convince my mom but I had to be clever and careful. Remain clam. Don't let her see me sweat. Speak with confidence.

I quietly went into the house and slipped into my bedroom without much notice.

"Hi, honey did you have a good time?" my mother yelled.

"Yeah, yeah, we had a great time, lots of fun." I replied nonchalantly

"Come here and give me a big hug, I missed you, " said my Mom.

"Okay, be right there." I yelled back. Okay girl this is it, stay cool!

I walked into the kitchen, my mother turned and her eyes immediately fell on the 6" scratch than ran down my arm.

"What happened?" she shrieked.

Cooley I replied, "Oh nothing really. We were playing with Amy's dog Sweet Thing. I got a little rough with her, pulled her tail and she scratched me. It is fine and doesn't hurt." I smiled.

"Sweet Thing scratched you? Has she had her rabies shots?" asked mom. This was before dog leash laws in our town and dogs were free to roam anywhere they wished. Rabies shots were not mandatory.

I didn't factor this question into my story so I replied, "Well I am sure she has."

"Maybe I had better call and check, if not, you may need to go to the doctor," said my mom who always thought of the worst case scenario in any situation. This time I might have rabies.

"Oh I don't think there is any need to do that," I stuttered.

"Just to be sure, I need to check," said my always thorough mom.

I sauntered into my room to await my death by switching. Of course she found out the truth. I even had to go cut my own switch. The scratch on my arm was nothing compared to the scratches on my legs and worse I was grounded from Amy's house for a month.

Did I learn my lesson about lying? Yes, at least until I entered my teens. I will tell you about the "I changed the grades on my report card story" sometime. It's a doozy. For now, I think I'll go jump on my bed.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.