So, you know how after you have kids, you spend countless hours teaching them right from wrong and how to behave and grow into healthy, contributing members of society? And then you take them out in public and in less than 5 seconds they can make you look like a complete asshat or worse?

That happens a lot around here.

My daughter is 5 and she’s having some trouble separating what is real from what is imaginary.  And by “having trouble,” I mean she’s a little liar.

I’m kidding, I’m kidding.

Kind of.

I don’t think she means to be naughty; in fact, I’m pretty sure she’s trying to be funny. We’re a jokey bunch, so that’s not surprising. But she doesn’t get jokes yet. At least, not how to tell them.

A knock-knock joke from this kid can last an hour. Then you get to the end and of course it’s not funny, but you laugh, cause she’s your kid. Then she says something about someone’s flatulence and that actually is funny, so you laugh.

Then you go out to eat and she tells the strangers at the next table that a) her mommy didn’t make her wear shorts under her dress this time so it’s just panties – wanna see? and b) mommy thinks it’s funny when someone farts.

Everyone laughs at this, so of course she continues to over share. Eventually she runs out of embarrassing but true stories and moves on to totally made up ones.

Such as:

“My mommy goes crazy, like an ape, like a mad, crazy monkey ape.”

“I know that, because I am a smart Alec.”

“We’re all werewolves.  We got bit.  Came in right through the window.”

“I don’t like my brothers because that’s how my mommy made me while I was in her tummy.”

What?  I wish I knew how I managed that, cause I would’ve made her not like any boys.  Ever.

Or she might just make up a song.  Her songs are generally very amusing and mostly even rhyme.

Then you’ve got the ones like this that make you want to crawl under a table and hide.  For the rest of your life. “It’s an adventure in your mouth, it’s a magical bed louse.” Over and over.

I have no fucking idea.

But I have been told that I also made up songs as a child.  Though I wasn’t so imaginative, I did enjoy performing one-word ditties in front of a packed restaurant.  I’ll give you a hint: It rhymed with duck, duck, duck.  Over and over.

I guess over sharing also runs in the family, because my boys were the same way.  Once one of them (not to name any names) announced to a friend of mine that he had “just pooped a whale.”

Now that they are older, if they say anything to embarrass me, it’s on purpose and I assure you it is all lies.  Like when they tell people that I don’t feed them.  Or that they only like burnt pizza because “that’s how they were raised.”

I’m basically terrified to take them anywhere.