I cannot tell a lie…okay, maybe that’s not true

I have a few philosophies in life.

One of them is when you’re part of a team, you don’t let your teammates down.

This became an issue this past summer when one of my kids wanted to skip a night of soccer. Not because he was sick. Not because we needed to be somewhere else.

Just because he didn’t feel like going.

I told him if he wasn’t going to show up, and he was going to let his teammates down, we were going to call his coach and explain why. “What are you going to say?” he asked in a slight tone of horror. That’s when child B started throwing out some suggestions. “Why don’t you say you have a dentist appointment? Why don’t you say your leg hurts? You could say you’re out of town.” “I can’t,” said child A, with his arms folded against his chest. “Mom won’t let us lie.” (We ended up going to his soccer game.)

That’s right, I cannot tell a lie.

Well…maybe that’s not completely true.

But anytime I’m tempted to fib, or stretch the truth, I’m reminded of a time when I wasn’t completely honest and I got caught.

A few years back someone I know had asked me to review a children’s book she had written. I had read other children’s books she had written so I knew from experience how many pages they tended to be.

A few were very long.

So when she dropped off the manila envelop to me I set it aside, knowing at that exact moment I didn’t have the time to read the book. The next day I put it off too. And the next day. I think by the fourth day I had forgotten I had put it on my desk.

I bumped into her a couple of weeks later and she asked me what I thought of the book. Instead of just coming out and telling her I hadn’t read it yet, I said, “Well, I started reading it, but I haven’t finished it yet.”

She gave me this totally odd look and then said with a bit of a laugh, “Yeah, because it’s such a long book.”

I nodded politely, or was that nervously?

The instant I got back to my desk I pulled the book out of the envelope and read it. Imagine my shock ¬– okay, I lie, my embarrassment –when I read the book from cover to cover in 37 seconds.

There were only 11 pages and 163 words in the entire book. Well, 165 words if you counted, ‘the end.’ The book amounted to fewer words than it took me to relay my soccer team philosophy in this column.

Some pages had around 20 words on them. Some only had two or three. I couldn’t believe I had actually uttered the words, “I started reading it, but I haven’t finished it yet.”

Did I expect her to believe I had gotten to page six in 18 seconds, but then had to take a break? That after reading the first 43 words I was too exhausted to carry on?

Then again, I had been pretty convincing. Maybe she bought my story about her story after all.

Honestly, who am I kidding?