Mine, for some reason, all involve pets:
The Runaway Goldfish: When I was 6 or 7, I won a goldfish at a carnival. Being a kid, I figured this new pet would be around for a while, and I was pretty excited to have my very own pet (we had a dog that was a “family” dog). Two days after getting it all set up in its new home, I come home and it’s gone from the bowl. My dad explained that the little guy was lonely, so he must have jumped out of his bowl (kept on a counter near the sink) and swam down the drain and into Lake Michigan to be with the other fish. I felt bad, but at least the fish was happy. A few months later, I won another fish. this time, I insisted that we go get him a girlfriend immediately. Dad agreed. A few days later, guess what? Apparently, as much as they enjoyed their little home, they needed a little more socialization.
The Runaway Dog: Right around the same time, we got a new puppy. We already had a dog at the time, but my parents brought home this adorable little St. Bernard puppy. We called him Shamus. We had him for a few months. One day, I came home, and he was gone. My parents said that he had run away because they left the gate open. I said we had to look for him, put ads in the paper, etc. They said, sure, they’d do all that stuff. I even asked my dad weeks later if they’d heard anything. He said that a guy had called and he had found Shamus, and taken him to live on his farm. Since Shamus would grow up to be a big dog, farm living would be good for him. I was satisfied knowing that my parents had done all they could, and that Shamus would be happy on his farm.
Fast forward a couple years. Our old dog had died. We had acquired a puppy named Butch. Long story short, Butch was an awful dog. Very hyper, very excitable, prone to biting when he was nervous. Not a good dog for kids, but I loved him. One day, I come home, and Mom and Dad are heading out the door with Butch. I offer to go with them for a walk. They make excuses, and finally explain that they’re giving Butch away to someone else. By the time they get home, I’ve put two and two together.
Me: Shamus didn’t run away, did he?
Mom: Excuse me?
Me: Did Shamus run away or did you give him away, too?
Mom: (long explanation resulting in, “Yes we did”)
Me: (long pause) Is he at least on a farm?
Dad: I’ll explain later, honey.
So, who else has believed a lie from your parents, and how long was it before you found out the truth?