Today, while Mom and I were out for a walk, we bumped into Joanna – Lily’s mom.
“Such a lovely dress! Is it new?” Mom asked in that sweet voice she always uses when she wants to make a good impression.
“Oh, thank you! Actually, no,” Joanna laughed, “it’s just been washed with…” — and she mentioned the name of a popular detergent, like she was in a commercial.
They both laughed.
But just a minute after we sent around the corner, Mom whispered through her teeth:
“She’s so annoying. Always cracking silly jokes and then laughing at her own punchlines.”
I slowed down. If Mom doesn’t like her, why was she so nice to her?
Later that day, I overheard her telling Dad the same thing.
“Mom, why did you tell Joanna you liked her dress, and then tell Dad it was awful?” I asked.
Mom almost choked on her coffee.
“Well… it was just… polite.”
“But it wasn’t true.”
“Sometimes adults do that so they don’t hurt someone’s feelings.”
At dinner, when Mom served the food, I took one bite and said:
“Mmm… it’s really tasty!”
Then I leaned toward Dad and quietly whispered, just loud enough for Mom to hear:
“It’s awful. No flavor at all.”
Mom squinted.
“Sofia! Why are you lying?”
“But I’m not lying. You did the same with Joanna. So when adults do it, it’s called ‘being polite,’ but when kids do it… it’s lying?”
Mom sighed.
“Not exactly. Sometimes… how someone feels is more important than the actual truth.”
Interesting.
If you tell your teacher the homework was “very interesting,” even if it nearly put you to sleep, she smiles.
If you tell Grandma her soup is delicious, even when it’s too salty, she beams.
But when does politeness become a lie?
Then I remembered — when our neighbor Lisa comes over, Mom always says: “So nice to see you!” And then sighs deeply once she’s gone.
Grown-ups are weird. They hide behind niceties, behind “Let’s talk soon” and “We should meet up sometime,” which usually means “Never.”
Maybe being an adult means being a good actor.
Or maybe… just learning when to tell the truth, and when to tell a prettier version of it.
On Sunday, we visited Grandma. As we were leaving, she hugged me and said:
“I’m so happy you came to see me, sweetheart.”
And you know what? This time… it was true.
Or maybe grandmas just don’t wear masks?
For real?
We’ll see.