The lies mothers tell
So DD, rich with the spoils from the tooth fairy, naturally wanted to go and spend her 10 Dirhams. Understanding her excitement, I agreed to take her to our local shops to pick something. They’re not the best shops, but there’s a supermarket and a book shop. I thought I could steer her in the direction of some pens, stickers or notepads, all of which she’s obsessed with right now.
It would have been mean, I thought, to ask her to buy me a copy of Grazia.
So she got dressed ‘like a grown-up’ with her party shoes and handbag, into which she put her purse containing the Dhs 10, and off we went. I’d forgotten there’s a trinkets stall at the shopping centre – it proved to have a lot of potential. We looked – and rejected – all sorts of hair clips, keyrings and sparkly bangles before heading off to the book shop, where we looked at – and rejected – a lot more stuff before settling on some stickers and a packet of coloured construction paper, which I agreed to buy alongside her stickers.
DD handed over the money and insisted on carrying the goods back to the car. But, as we drove off, she started to weep. Big, fat tears slid down her cheeks: her stickers were lost. Somehow, holding both them and the construction paper had been too much, and the stickers had slipped out of her grasp. I parked the car again, and went back to the shops to look.
The stickers were nowhere.
I didn’t want DD to think I’ll replace anything that she loses (she has to learn to be responsible for her actions) but, on the other hand, they were special stickers from the tooth fairy. So I did what any soppy mother would do: I bought another set.
“Found them!” I lied back at the car, and all was well.
Until the next day, when DD found the “lost” stickers where they’d falled on the floor of the car.
I watched her face as the penny slowly dropped.
“Mummy… you lied about finding them, didn’t you?” she asked. “Mummy, that’s terrible.”