One shoe in, one shoe out.

One shoe in, one shoe out.

I think most of us grew up surrounded by a few harmless childhood lies, stories meant more to soften reality or get us on track than to steer us toward disillusionment. I imagine it’s not easy for parents to find that sweet spot between what needs to be said and what we’re not quite ready to process yet. My parents didn’t lie much. When they did, it was usually for practical reasons. My mom, for example, used to tell me that if I made an extra ugly grimace, the vaccine wouldn’t hurt as much. Worked for me. What’s funny is that I don’t remember ever truly believing in the Easter bunny or Santa Claus. What I do remember is pretending I believed, because I didn’t want to ruin the magic for my parents, who were clearly thrilled to see us so euphoric. My mom would paint little bunny footprints all through the house and out into the garden; it would’ve felt almost rude to burst her bubble. I also remember my brother rehearsing how he was going to tell me that Santa wasn’t real, while I was thinking, DUH?

I've read an article saying Montessori discourages the whole Santa Claus phantasy. And look, there's nothing I love more than a Montessori bedroom for kids. I also do get the fact kids are building their concept of the world and accurate information helps them developing their imagination and intelligence. But I cannot look back to my parent's little lies in resentment, I actually find it quite sweet they were doing their best to eventually let me linger a little longer on ease.

Talking to some friends, I found out that Lisi, for instance, was told that too much TV would turn her eyes square, and that if she crossed them for too long, they might get permanently stuck. Clearly, her parents were deeply invested in preserving the structural integrity of her eyeballs. May grew up hearing that opening an umbrella inside the house would stop kids from growing. To this day, she’s still not sure whether that was a lie or a superstition her parents genuinely believed in. Gica was warned that if she ate fruit seeds, a tree would grow inside her stomach. A risky strategy, knowing myself as a kid, that would have sounded less like a warning and more like a challenge. Speaking of seeds, I just recall now when I ask the big question where do babies come from, my dad told me he has placed a seed on my mom's belly. Kind of true? And then my next question was: can we buy more seeds for mom's belly? They laughed saying the store was permanently closed. Carol’s parents went for fear tactics: if she didn’t brush her teeth before bed, bugs would come bite her mouth while she slept. Her teeth? Still impeccable. Lukas was terrified by the idea that the “bag man” would kidnap him if he disobeyed his parents. Claudia, on the other hand, was told that if she teased the puppy, it would bite her once it grew bigger. She grew up to be the most caring, hyper aware human to any dog. Now Claudia is a mom too, and she confessed passing the little lie tradition along: she told her daughter that dinosaurs went extinct because they didn’t brush their teeth. Probably a lie, she said, but prove her wrong.

Parents can be pretty contradictory too. My mom always told me that if another kid bit me in kindergarten, I should tell the teacher immediately. My dad, on the other hand, lived by an “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth” philosophy and would say: if someone bites you, bite them back. Wanting to please both of them, I told the teacher that my classmate had bitten my arm, and that’s why I bit her entire arm back. When the incident was reported, my mom got a bit concerned. My dad? Proud.

I think that little inner diplomat, half “retaliate” half “call the authorities”is still alive and well in me. I realized this when COVID hit and I had two extremely paranoid neighbors. One begged me please, please not to leave my shoes in the hallway because THE VIRUS would obviously spread. The other sent me a WhatsApp warning that I absolutely had to leave my running shoes outside the door for at least 24 hours, or I’d catch the virus and then personally spread it to humanity. So, to keep the peace (and because the joke was irresistible), I started leaving one shoe inside and one shoe outside. When the first follow up message arrived, I replied that they needed to talk to each other and figure this out, because they were confusing me. And if they kept texting, I’d report them for harassment. Balance achieved.

Perhaps Montessori was right, nothing fuels creativity quite like reality and its endless frustrations. Shame she never warned us about crazy neighbors.

/Apr26