Pride

"I got this, dad," my son assured me.

"Are you sure?" Even though he was only ten- years old, there was no doubt in his voice.

"Trust me. I got it."

"Trust me" was apparently one of my mom's triggers when I was growing up. To hear her tell (that's old fashion talk from her part of the country. They also say warsh instead of wash.) every time I said that she either started calling 911 or got the bandages out. (I'd like to point out that never once did the fire department have to make it all the way to our house after I said, "Trust me. I know what I'm doing.")

"What are you going tell her?"

"Dad..." I'd imagine Tiger Woods used the exact same tone when his dad asked him how he was going to tee off in his first Master's tournament.

"Well?"

After a long, exasperated sigh (Which he gets from his mother.) he explained. "I'm going to tell her I called my friend and he wants to play at the park."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What time."

"5."

"What if she wants to go earlier?"

"I'll tell her they are busy until then. If she want to leave too early, then I'll tell her I forgot something in the house. When she comes in looking for me, I'll tell her I can't find my stuffed dog and she'll see it on the table and I'll say I didn't look there." (Every lie needs an element of truth. There is no doubt he would not look in the most obvious place.)

I was proud of him. The keys to a good lie were the details and keeping it simple.

Now, I just needed to get everyone to the park, get the food and drinks and some cover in case it rained. Operation "Surprise Mommy" was underway.

Everyone had a part to play. My son was the initial liar, my daughter who can not keep a secret was the truth-telling-liar and found out how much fun it is to trick mommy. She "let out" that Sunday was a surprise pizza party (She was positive that Chuckie Cheese would be the perfect venue cause that 1000 ticket card in the cyclone was wicked awesome. And she could tell mommy how to get it.) My son and I both shushed her and my wife pretended not to hear. Later she told me how my daughter spilled all the details:

“She told me we're going to have pizza at the park.”

“Oh?” Since my daughter's idea of keeping a secret was to only yell it once, I figured she'd blown her part.

“Don't worry. I won't say anything to Ann.”

“Oh?” I tried to keep the worry out my voice and sound irritated that the small surprise had been ruined.

“It's OK. It'll be fun to have just us.” (If I wasn't so proud of how well they'd taken to deceiving their own mother, I'd be worried about how they were both naturals at lying...)

I had the people invited, the food bought (And I even remember the cake) and a place if it rained. Now, I just needed to get everything there without my wife realizing something was up. Getting out of the house was easy, I just needed “to make a quick trip to Lowes” for some supplies. That would be good for at least an hour.

While my son and daughter kept my wife distracted, a few of us met at the park and got things together. After the third text message from my wife, I figured it was probably time to go get her. Especially since the last message said she was getting ready to head to the park. I called and said I was on my way home, I'd had a little accident at the store and would tell her about it when I got home, but everything was ok.

Once home, I limped in and explained a row of doors had fallen over and jammed my knee. It was fun watching her go from we're-late-and-I'm-pissed-off to concerned about how bad my knee was. She made sure I got to the car without further damaging my knee. All the while telling the kids, “Daddy really hurt his knee. Be careful.” To my daughter, she had a special message, “No, you can't jump on his back!” On the way to the park, she planned how to take me to the hospital for x-rays if it didn't stop hurting soon. She even found a close parking space so I wouldn't have to limp as far. (And for the record, no, I didn't really feel any guilt about tricking her.)

When we got to the pavilion and she saw all her friends and then noticed I wasn't limping any more, she had the nerve to call me a big, fat liar. At least my kids are learning from the best.