Lying About Our Age!

And so we have reached that magical, mystical time in my life as a parent in which I am actively, constantly lying about the ages of my children.  Perhaps you've heard this story before, but I cannot remember a time in my life in which I was more horrified than when my parents lied about my age to get in somewhere and said I was ELEVEN when I was actually FOURTEEN.  Obviously, there were plenty of more horrifying moments in my life, but that one really stuck with me.  Why don't you all just rub it in that I don't have any boobies? That I am not some super hot teenage girl and instead look like I should be playing with dolls?  Why don't we just knock down my self esteem another half dozen or so notches just to save two dollars on general admission?  I'm in high school and I look ELEVEN?  Really?  Why must you people ALWAYS DO THIS TO ME?

Of course, now here I am (almost thirty-four and ironically praying that I don't look a day over twenty-seven), and I'm obviously doing the same thing to my kids.  Of course, they are four and two, so I'm really only lying down to three and one, which is nary a difference at all.  But I am extremely underemployed.  I mean, I'm extremely OVERemployed, being a stay at home mom to these two little lunatics, but I am EXTREMELY UNDERPAID.  We are a one income family, and, hot dog, if I can save $3 by knocking my children down a year or two, then we all know what has to be done.

The problem is Andy, honest Andy, as honest as the day is long.  Honest Andy who's always sticking his nose in the business I try to conduct with other adults, Honest Andy who would call out my "he's three" lie in a hot second if given the chance, thus exposing me for the cheapskate liar I actually am.  And so, the other day, on the way to the pool, I decided my best bet was just to explain to Andy what I was about to do.

"Andy, when we get to the pool, I'm going to say you're three, even though you're four.  It's just because three years olds are FREE and four year olds cost money.  So when I say you're three, don't say anything. Okay?"

Andy mulled this over for a second before asking, "Why?  Are we running out of money?"

Yes, Andy, we are.  But aloud I said, "No, of course not.  But, if I SAVE some money by saying you're three, then maybe I can spend it on something else like ICE CREAM instead."

Andy thought about it for a little.  "Okay.  So we will pretend I'm three.  How old are you going to be?"

"Twenty-seven."

I was a little nervous about how admission was going to play out for me, and I could tell Andy was, too.  He whispered to me as we stood in line, "I'm not going to say I'm four!"  and acted a little jittery as he appeared to give himself a mental pep talk.  By trying to save three bucks, I'd actually probably cost myself three hundred in future counseling.  But, alas.  Every once in a while, you just have to roll the dice.

Andy did as instructed and didn't interrupt me as I lowered his age when it was time to pay.  And later, I stressed the importance of always being honest EXCEPT WHEN MOMMY SAYS IT'S OKAY BECAUSE THREE DOLLARS ARE ON THE LINE.

And so I await the day when Andy or Alex is overcome with shame because they've passed for a younger age when they really oh-so-badly want to be BIG.  I will always try to make my kids feel less shame as opposed to more.  Unless it's a really big amount of money we're talking about saving, such as ten bucks or so.

But also, Andy and Alex, just remember.  The teenager taking our money doesn't give a crap how old you are or look or how much I'm about to pay.  They're just ringing up on the register and counting down the moments until they can go home and eat ice cream.  Which reminds me. I think I owe you an ice cream. McDonalds is doing the forty-nine cent cones again.  And good news- the discounted price is for all ages! Even twenty-seven year olds.