The first time I was lied to by someone with authority over me was the lie most children are told. That Santa is real. It’s not a bad lie at all, and it makes most kid’s childhoods better. I first started realizing that my parents were lying when I began to read books that told stories where he didn’t exist, and when that one know-it-all friend everyone has insisted “Santa isn’t real. My parents told me so.” Eventually, I came to accept that fact, but I wasn’t mad that my parents lied because I had had many fun adventures trying to catch him. My favorite one was when I was six or seven. I rigged up a motion-sensitive camera to try and get pictures of Santa leaving presents under our tree. When I got up in the morning, the camera was on the couch with a note that said something along the lines of “stop tryna catch me you silly kid” except more nicely.

I have lied to kids younger than myself many times, usually to keep them from bothering me while I read or did homework. I would say something like, “hey, you’re not supposed to be over here right now. *teacher’s name* told me so,” or “your parents are looking for you, go find them.” I don’t think that those kinds of lies are particularly bad, but that could just be from my point of view and the little kid is actually devastated that they trusted me. They probably had forgotten about the whole thing less than two hours later, so I didn’t feel too bad about it.

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