Kid Smiles: Melon Did It

Kid Smiles:

Melon Did It: Imaginary Friends, Stories and Lies, and Accepting Responsibility

I knew a three-year old girl who, any time she did something she wasn’t supposed to (which was fairly often), would announce, “Melon did it!” Melon, of course, was her imaginary friend. Sometimes Melon was a good companion, engaging in thoughtful conversation, but, most often, Melon was the scapegoat. Melon didn’t seem to mind much.

I also remember a four-year old boy who once broke something on the playground. Even though he was the only one in the area, and despite the fact that a teacher had actually seen him break the toy, when I asked him why he did that, he said, “because....wait, I didn’t do it...” When I asked him who did do it, he looked around, then innocently said, “how about Colby?” Now, ordinarily, Colby would have been a viable suspect, but on this day, he wasn’t even at school, giving him a solid alibi.

Both of these memories make me smile. They are also both really good examples of the way preschoolers will naturally try to negotiate the truth. It’s not pathological lying (yet), it’s simply coming to a developmentally appropriate understanding of the relationship between reality and fantasy. It’s also part of the process of learning to accept responsibility for our actions and behaviors.

It’s sometimes difficult for adults to figure out how to respond to these narrative explorations. We want to encourage imagination, and we often are amused by the clumsy trek through the truth that preschoolers pursue. But while they are on this journey, it’s important to help them recognize the difference between the fun and positive use of imagination, and the problematic manipulation of truth to deflect responsibility or to get what you want. There’s nothing wrong with naming that difference, and naming it makes it easier for children as young as three to understand: using imagination to tell stories (or to have imaginary friends) is fine, as long as the people you’re telling them to know that they’re stories, but making things up that you know are false and trying to get others to believe you is lying. It really is that simple (but I’m sure we all know some grown ups who still struggle with this concept).

Young children lie for a variety of reasons. Probably chief among them is to deny wrongdoing and get out of trouble (the function of Melon and Colby), but children will sometimes lie just to see what happens, or to try to reconstruct their world in ways that make them feel better. An example of the “just to see what happens” tactic is the little girl who, with somber earnestness, told us that her mother couldn’t come to pick her up that day because she had been in a bad car accident and was in the hospital. We were all appropriately concerned and confused, because we hadn’t heard anything about it, but things were cleared up when Mom walked in the door that afternoon, safe and sound. When we asked the girl why she told us that, she said, “I don’t know.” And she didn’t know. She was trying it out. An example of a child reconstructing the world to make himself feel better was the little boy who, after having experienced some meaningful trauma, insisted on calling his adoptive parents “Nala” and “Mufasa,” and wanted everyone to call him “Simba.” For this young boy, the simple reality was that, for him at that moment in his life, reality was challenging, and his healing involved a harmless construction of a world of strength, perseverance, connection, and heroism to get him through. This lasted for a couple of months, until we all recognized that reality was once again, for him, a safe place to be.

If you value honesty and integrity, then you will help the children in your life understand why those concepts are important. Adults will often excuse lying as “harmless fantasy,” or with the belief that children “are just too young to know any better.” If children are old enough to have the vocabulary to create stories, they are old enough to begin to understand morality and ethics, and the difference between lying and storytelling. But the only way they can learn the social significance of these concepts is if adults take the time to name the problem, set clear and consistent expectations and consequences, and explain what the choices are. One of the best books to help children (ages four and up) with this concept is Evaline Ness’s Sam, Bangs, and Moonshine. This book tells the story of a little girl, Sam, whose elaborate stories ultimately cause serious injury to her best friend, Thomas, and to her cat, Bangs. Sam’s stories begin as a way to help her cope with the loss of her mother, but evolve into an escape from reality that is no longer healthy for her or for those around her. Her father explains to her the difference between “real” and “moonshine,” and helps her to accept responsibility for the consequences of her actions.

And that really is the point: Sam’s father doesn’t discourage her from telling stories, but insists that she be clear with others (and with herself) that she is making it up. Similarly, we welcomed Melon at school, but insisted that she not be blamed for her friend’s behavior. It was only fair.