The first time Jill lied to me, I called my mom. Proud. My little girl was smart enough to think up a lie. I'm not even sure I thought to punish her. I still can't believe that I remember the moment as clearly as her first steps, her first word (hungry), and losing her first tooth. To me, the ability to lie, to tell me a story, signalled something. Intelligence. Understanding of language. It was about more than how those little hair bows ended up in her purse when she wasn't supposed to be climbing on the counter top to reach them.
Emmi's first lie came much older. To be expected considering she didn't say her first word (no) until two and a half. At the time, I didn't think much of it. Or, really I thought, "Quit trying to get your sister in trouble!" Then the lies became more elaborate. "No that is my bracelet. My Nana gave it to me for Christmas." And it dawned on me, she can lie. She can tell a story. This child who has struggled with speech and language development, is plotting out stories.
And once again, I was proud. Proud of my little liar.