I remember when my mom would make pierogies, I’d always want to help. To keep me out of the way, my mom let me make, “Pierogie sauce”-water and flour. I’d happily swirl my slop around a bowl until it was time for the pierogies to be done-when mom would send me out to play. Later on, at dinner, she told me how good my “sauce” was. Of course, she was throwing it away while I was out playing. It wasn’t until years later that I caught on. (When I was about seven, I think I found out. I still would play with flour and water though, when she made bread…just for kicks.)
I wasn’t upset though. The thought of eating that stuff…yuck!
My mother got a butchered rabbit from her brother, who raised them for food, and roasted it for dinner one night, when my brother and I were about 6 and 7. We both cried hysterically and refused to touch it all through dinner. But the next night we had the best chicken casserole either of us could remember! 
Three little words.
He’s just sleeping…
Sigh
Wow do I have a story about dead pets.
It all started on my 9th birthday, when I recieved a grey parakeet, whom i named “stormy”. Now, Stormy was a special bird…he couldn’t fly, and limped when he walked. But of course, as my dad explained, it was just because he was a baby. 3 weeks later, I woke one morning and jumped to go see Stormy and play with him, only to see that he was dead. I was devastated. Completely devastated. My mother ran over to see what had happened, and came over to reasure me. Then, she says that she has something to tell me. It turns out that Stomry had actaully died a number of times-3, in fact, but I had never been home when my parents had discovered the bodies. They had just been replacing the dead bird with an idenitcal one! I suppose it was just a sickly bunch of birds…but it was really traumatizing!
My little brother and I got hsmpsters one day when we were real young. We kept them in an empty fish tank with a water bottle hanging down the side. We found them a few times runnijng around the house after they climbed the chain that held the bottle. One day my hampster was missing. We looked everywhere we could and couldn’t find him. My dad told me he must have gotten outside and assured me he couold survive without his pellets.
…when I was 18!!! the truth accidentally slipped from my sister’s mouth about the hampster. It seems that the Pool Guy had found my furry little friend in the filter. The poor pool guy took care of disposing the lil’ fellow and quitetly told my mother. My parents never thought to tell me what really happened. All this time I had been imagining hin scurrying through the fields behind my house.
-sigh-
My parents told me that if I added too much sugar to my cornflakes I’d get “sugar diabetes”. They said this repeatedly. I’m still waiting. Presumably sugar diabetes is worse than just regular old diabetes.
They also used to say “put something on your feet - you’ll catch your death of cold!” (Strange phrase that - old irish idiom perhaps) Presumably I once was a happy little tyke in my bare feet, but since the indoctrination, I feel uneasy when my feet are in the open air (I live in Australia, land of blistering heat). A former boyfriend used to laugh at me, when I’d pose seductively, in the nude except for little black bed-socks.
About pets they were FABULOUS! Never a lie between them…
Redsocks
I was a bit of a strange kid. When I was probably 8 or 9, I purchased a cayman for the T, G & Y. For those of you who don’t know, a cayman is a small alligator. I brought it home, and kept it in a bowlful of water. Sort of a small bowl. It could get out. One day I came home from school, and my mother said the cayman got loose - outside. Just how the little guy got outside didn’t occur to me until I was in my teens. Mom admitted she let the damn thing go. I think she perpetuated the “alligator in the storm drain” urban legend. She still owes me $5 for the cayman…
I know what a cayman is (damn, you were lucky to have one!), but what is a T, G, & Y?
screech, I believe that Dolores meant from the TG&Y, which was a department store - sort of like Target or Meijer’s. Actually, more like a K-Mart. Or a Venture.
That is all.
I just gotta ask, what about…um…I mean how did they…or what…
Oh, nevermind.
I always wanted a Norwegian Blue. Marvelous plumage, I hear.
“I can tell you’re lying because your eyes turn purple when you lie.”
“You were born two months early.”
The tooth fairy & Santa Claus.
I’m sure there are more, but those are what pop to the top of my head.
Never lied about pets though. We knew what happened when our dog had to be put down, we knew when the cats were sent to the farm (yes, they really did go there - a dairy farm at that - & lived happily for many years).
Doing chores “builds character.”
I grew up thinking that personality was something you had to exercise, like your muscles.
No, no, no…When you lie, your tongue gets a black line right down the middle. I know so, because my dad told me. But if you check in the mirror you won’t see it, because only parents can see it. Eyes turning purple…how silly!
I really didn’t mean for this thread to only be about pets. Those were just the two stories I was thinking of when I started this.
Only parents can see it…? What kind of parents would give their innocent child that sort of wrong-headed misinformation?
It’s because you have to be really lying to someone (not just pretending for test purposes), and you’re never fast enough when you look in the mirror. 
Thanks, Connor. It was the “five and dime” of my youth. They had everything a kid could want (and stuff a parent wouldn’t!)
It still really burns me the number of times my parents lied to me about gifts, of all things!
Once (I was about seven) my mom took me shopping and pointed out a bracelet that came in copper, silver, and gold. She told me she was going to buy it for my cousin, and asked me what colour I thought Colleen would like. I had seen Collen wearing copper jewelry, so I suggested copper. Mom bought the copper one. Guess who gets the copper bracelet for Christmas? Guess who doesn’t? I hate copper. I would have chosen silver for myself, if she had just asked.
My sister picked up the trick too, only she did it to me with a horrible Avon perfume.
My dad, on the other hand, would lie to me if I asked him for his opinion on a gift for my mother. I’d ask him if he thought mom would like X, and he’d say yes (so as not to hurt my feelings). Then mom would open X and I could see in her eyes that she hated it.
I still don’t trust any of them.
It seems parents are still doing this, too. I was on Amazon’s message boards shortly after Christmas and a woman was congratulating herself for buying all her daughter’s gifts in her presence. I hope the poor child at least wanted the toys she picked out for her cousin.
Why do you think lying to your child is clever?
biggest lie–
“no Hunny, Adam, we’re never getting a divorce”
that was when I was 5. Lie lie lie LIE LIE! BASTARDS!
biggest lie–
“no Hunny, Adam, we’re never getting a divorce”
that was when I was 5. Lie lie lie LIE LIE! BASTARDS!
- Easter Bunny? Delivers candy in the middle of the night? WTF?
- Santa Claus
- Tooth fairy
- Our dog “went to live on a farm” too. (My uncle is a vet; I figured it out later – he put her down with the “blue juice.”)
- Oh yeah, and if you live the life of a true Mormon, Jesus will save you.
That’s about it really. My mother was a nurse, so there were no lies about sex, puberty, body parts or anything like that. We got the clinical description along with a heart to heart about the emotional stuff. (“If you’re going to have sex, that’s a very adult decision. At least be prepared to accept the adult consequences.”)
My mom kicks ass! My dad (the Mormon) tends to tell you want he wants you to believe, which is not necessarily the truth.