Trust is a big word in relationships.

I had an old photo come up recently; one of those shared ones from a quote page on Facebook which read “trust is like a piece of paper, once you crumple it up, you can smooth it out again, but it will never be exactly the same.” It got me thinking about trust, and the way we bring it up with our kids.

They trust us implicitly in the early years. They have to in order to survive. As they get older, around the age of 4, they begin to experiment with lies – not to hurt us, but rather, to see what happens.

When my oldest started this, I was shocked! It brought up a lot for me; about the relationship I have with trust, and how its affected my personal life. So, despite being very triggered, and definitely not responding calmly at first, I got curious – why do children lie? It turns out, it’s kind of like discovering a superpower, where they can hold multiple versions of a story, and keep track of each one relating to other people, and then see what happens. They may be scared or worried, or maybe just curious; but lying is a developmental leap; and after all, adults tell white lies all the time right? Especially to kids.

So how are they meant to trust us?

And how do we build a relationship of trust with them?

I don’t the answers – if I did I wouldn’t be writing this – but I do have my experiences and reflections. In part because I think by getting curious and researching, I learned that I wasn’t the only mum freaking out about trust. It’s pretty universal, which I think is a good indicator of how messed up so many people over this concept, and how loaded it really it.

Trust is the foundation of relationships isn’t it? And yet, our kids see/hear us lie about the park being closed, or not going to a party or the big one: Santa! It’s confusing; because there are some socially acceptable lies – whether or not we agree with them personally.

By getting honest; which is harder and often leads to more upset, we set the standard.

“No, we’re not going to the park today because mummy is cold and it’s nearly lunchtime.”

“There are more biscuits in the house but right now we can’t have them because we’ve had enough for today.”

“I’m taking a few minutes by myself, because I am tired. I love you, and adults get tired too, so I need a few minutes to rest.”

None of these are fun; and most of the time they are going to result in a child getting angry or sad or both, but it means that when they have to regulate, or tell someone why they can’t do something, or need a minute, they are equipped with the language to do so. The hardest one for me, is time alone. The others, after practice, now result in some form of compromise or negotiation where I say no, and they say “when can we?” and we talk about it.

For example the other day we went for a woodland walk and my daughter really wanted to go to the park afterwards, but my oldest son was tired and it was nearly lunchtime. I said no, because we had to get home and she wasn’t happy. She said she’d go alone and I said I couldn’t let her, but that we’d go another day. She asked if the next day (i.e. tomorrow) I’d bring her, and I said “I don’t know, but I promise when we come out to this area again, I’ll bring a picnic and we can do the park as well. Today I don’t have enough food, and your brothers tired so it’s not a good idea.” She understood.

But what about when they lie?

At first, I struggled. I got upset, and I felt like I was failing at teaching them the importance of truth telling. Then, I stopped, dropped the idea that it was an attack on me or my parenting, and tried to understand why. When it involved hurting a sibling, or spilling the soap everywhere; it was because they were scared about what I’d do.

I don’t want my kids to be scared of me. This was a huge reality check for me. I wanted them to know, mistakes, big feelings, doing things we shouldn’t (often because impulse control isn’t a thing for tiny people), are okay, because we can clean up and repair, and we can figure out a way forward, together. Once I realised this, and I talked to them about it, we shifted. I got less upset; they didn’t lie as much. When they did, I asked them to tell me what really happened; or I played along for a bit; and teased the truth out.

Truthfully; when my kids lie now, unless there’s potential danger, I go with it – which for the most part means they turn around quickly and say “I tricked you” and then we play or laugh or chat about it. I don’t always manage, but when this happens, I also try and remind them that they’re body is stronger in truth – and that they can impact every single cell inside them positively by being truthful.

It’s not a perfect system, and we’re not perfect at it. But it works for us right now… and through adults setting the standard, we’re building trust, so they know they can rely on us, even if they don’t like what they hear. It’s building bridges, and it’s reminding them (and me) that we can live in truth far more peacefully than with white lies that crumple our paper in the long term.

Thank you for reading,

Rohana