This is a very apt thread, as far as my life goes. I was, myself, a champion world class liar as a teenager. Not as a young child, but from about 14 to 19 or so. I lied, as I recall now, for the sake of lying. I lied like a rug, and when I think about it now it puzzles me a lot. I lied to the kids at school in order to make myself be different “than I really was” (whatever the hell that was), and I lied to my parents even more. My lies were often pointless and when it came to lying to my Mum, I got caught all the time. I guess she was often at her wit’s end.
Someone told me years later that kids, particularly teenagers, MUST lie to their parents. It’s a kind of “separation” thing, the child must have the privacy a maturing human needs and one way to achieve that privacy is to lie about what you’re really doing, etc. I think there is some truth to that. Some, maybe, but I think I lied more than was necessary.
At any rate, it came back to bite me in the ass, as the saying goes. My oldest son began to tell lies when he was about 5 or so and he continued on his career as a really, really, really expert and convincing liar until he was about 40 years old. In those years he did a lot of awful things, he became a drug addict and criminal and fraud artist. His ability to lie held him in good stead, I suppose. He lives a clean life now, but he’s still a liar. Not as bad as he was, and getting less as time goes by.
I told my children, and I tell my grandchildren, that there is nothing they can’t tell me, that I will always be able to deal with the truth but that a lie destroys everything. Sometimes the irony of it smites me.
Kids lie. I never knew a kid who didn’t. Motives for lying vary by age, as has been discussed here. I don’t think a 4 year old really means to lie, but then I think of my son at 5 - he knew what he was doing all right.
Nothing anyone said or did to me stopped me from lying. I did stop, but I did it on my own. Don’t know why I started, don’t know why I stopped.
Nothing we ever said or did with our son made a difference. Ever. Sometimes he lied “for a reason” as in, to avoid punishment or to impress people, but often it seemed utterly pointless. Altering reality, that’s all it was. Maybe a great writer was hidden there.