I don’t lie very often. I’d like to say it’s because I have strong internal moral compass and a keen sense of Right and Wrong. But no, I generally don’t lie because, like a lot of people, I’m worried I’ll get caught.
The other day, Mother of Master L asked me to pass on her apologies at the kindergarten committee meeting. Turns out she’d got free passes to see a film in Gold Class with her husband. (If you don’t know what Gold Class is, some people look upon it as mainstream cinema with comfy seats and alcohol. I personally look upon it as a chance to drink copious amounts of alcohol in an almost fully reclined position in a place where a movie also happens to be playing).
Anyway, in the words of my high school diary: I was shocked! Gold Class instead of the kindergarten committee meeting? Where was Mother of Master L’s sense of community spirit? I, in stark contrast, am always the very embodiment of such spirit when I sit through those meetings, perched on one of the kindergarten chairs, my knees around my ears and my eyes fixed firmly on the Secretary’s watch in an attempt to stay awake. And before you start thinking ill of me (well, more ill of me), it’s not because I don’t care about the kindergarten or its community. I do. Very much. It’s just that I don’t have a head for the details. I’m an ideas person remember! IDEAS! NOT DETAILS! Now, what were we talking about again?
Anyway, when I passed on MoML’s apologies that evening, the President of the Committee noted her absence without question. I was surprised. I thought that you’d need to give a reason to miss a committee meeting such as “I’m really very sick indeed”. Because that’s what I’d probably say if I were skipping off to Gold Class instead of the meeting.
But then, thinking about it, if I did say I was sick, the President of the Kindergarten Committee (a kindly person) would probably swing past my house after the meeting bearing freshly baked goods. And then the door’d be answered by the babysitter and the Chain of Deceit would continue because the babysitter would have to make something up on the spot, like “Sick? Oh, yes, [The NDM] is sick…. in fact SO sick her husband had to her to hospital!! Yeah, she’s sooo in hospital right now”. And then, when the babysitter grew reluctant to provide any further details, the President of the Kindergarten Committee would be left with no choice but to Assume The Very Worst. And she’d go straight home to do a quick ring around and form an emergency Prayer Circle for me. And then one of the Circle would suggest the group convene in front of my house in an all-night candlelit vigil and, before you know it, word would whip around the neighbourhood and a steady stream of people would be joining them in the power of Front Yard Prayer. And then, in one corner, someone would start a quilting bee to make a patchwork eiderdown to nurse me back to good health, with “OUR THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS ARE WITH YOU, NDM” carefully hand-stitched in the centre by someone’s grandmother with ailing eyesight and arthritic fingers, painstakingly working by candlelight. And then a hat would be past around and people would dig very deep, even into their own personal savings, and a sizeable amount would be raised in a very short time. And somewhere, someone would start singing a rousing hymn and slowly, one by one, everyone would join in, tears streaming down their faces as they thought of how full of life I’d been just that very afternoon.
At which point, my husband and I would arrive home drunk in a taxi, with tell-tale signs of Choc Tops smeared across the front of our shirts.
So no, I don’t tell lies. I don’t “do” Gold Class. In fact, I rarely leave my house at night, except to go to Kindergarten Committee Meetings, of course. After this post, I ain’t missing any of those ever again, that’s for damn sure.