I was making bolognese yesterday afternoon when Ava pranced into the kitchen and asked if there was any cooking she could help with (I immediately recognized her mother’s hand). I’d just finished preparing the sauce for its long simmer, so there wasn’t much else going on. Momentarily flummoxed, I asked how Ava would like to make some soup. The idea excited her, and she sprinted upstairs to grab a bowl.
When she returned, we filled the bowl with water and proceeded to add sliced celery, red pepper flakes, mace, white pepper, salt, masa flour, cloves, cardamom, thyme, parsley, and a bit of every other spice or herb I could find in the cupboard. I gave Ava a spoon to stir her concoction and then had to run upstairs to attend to Leah for a minute. I came back to find the bowl that had previously contained only half its capacity in water was now nearly brimming over, and the salt bowl was mostly empty, whereas it was 7/8 full when I’d left. I looked at Ava and harshly asked why she’d wasted all that salt. She professed her innocence. I asked again, and again she denied involvement. We repeated this exchange a couple more times before she ran upstairs for the protection of her mother. I followed. I brought Ava back downstairs and set her on her thinking spot for lying to me.
I let Ava cry for four minutes and then went to talk with her. She’s been talking recently about lying, and we’ve noticed her saying, “liar, liar, pants on fire” a couple times a day. Clearly, there’s some lying going on at school. As Ava and I talked, she confirmed that she had lied to keep me from getting angry with her. I explained how important it is that she’s always honest with her mom and dad. I promised I’d never get mad at her if she told me the truth. I hope I can keep that one. As soon as the words left my mouth, I started imagining all the honesty she could potentially lay on me. “I kissed a boy.” “I had sex.” “I got drunk.” “I smoked pot.” “I cheated.” “I stole.” “I killed a man with my bare hands.” “I hate you.” “I think you’re stupid.” “I’m leaving home.” “I’m in love.” Dang. I’m glad I didn’t promise that she’d never break my heart….