I had an experience this last week that’s left me a little unsettled. I don’t like being unsettled.
I took my daughter in for an appointment with a pediatric dentist. We typically all see the same dentist, but she had a particular issue that meant she need to be referred to a specialist. I went into the appointment with an uncertainty about what was about to happen. Was this just a consultation? A meet and greet? Would actual services happen?
As we went through introductions and an examination, the dentist decided she could solve the problem right then. I had not prepped my daughter for this, since we didn’t even know what potential treatment options might be. My daughter was hesitant, but she’s tough. She’s also very interested in all things medical, so she had a lot of questions.
Before I get into the unsettling part, let me explain a bit about our parenting philosophy. We have been parenting kids from trauma backgrounds for the last 20 years through group home work, foster care, and adoption. While this has meant we’ve had to make some very intentional parenting decisions in order to help create trust in kids who have experienced trauma, I have also found these ways of parenting to be beneficial for our biological kids. It is what I believe is best for kids.
Part of that philosophy entails very direct honesty with my kids. We do that through pre-teaching if we know there are going to be difficult experiences (I tell my kids in advance when they are going to get vaccines and we talk through the process) and answering the questions they ask. We do not say, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” We don’t hedge or hide. We don’t even do Santa because we don’t want our kids to ever feel like we were dishonest with them. We have consistently worked with professionals who have either had that same philosophy or who have taken their cues from us and been direct with our kids.
This experience was different.
My daughter asked if she was going to need a shot. The dentist said they don’t do any shots in their office. She talked about numbing jelly, and then explained what a syringe was, but reiterated several times that she would not be getting a shot and that they didn’t do any shots at their office. I listened to this explanation with some skepticism, but I honestly didn’t know what they were going to be doing and I trusted that she was being truthful. I was then escorted to the waiting room (I’ve typically stayed in the room, but wasn’t given that option). When my daughter came out, one of the first things she said was, “She told me she wasn’t going to give me any shots, but she did! Why would she lie?” My little right-fighter did not appreciate this. And it’s not that she has a problem with shots. She’s had plenty of dental work done and does fine with them. It’s dishonesty she doesn’t like.
We went through something similar when another one of my kids was really upset because she thought her Kindergarten teacher either A. thought Santa was real or B. was lying about Santa because she had been talking about Santa in class. I had to email her teacher to ask if she could pull my daughter aside and let her know that she knew the truth about Santa, but it was okay for them to let the other kids find out about that in their own time from their parents (this is an ongoing part of our conversation about Santa- we don’t “ruin” it for other kids). The teacher was fantastic and handled it perfectly (Kindergarten teachers are actual saints). The thing is, it’s not about Santa. It’s about being trustworthy. When my daughter thought her teacher either believed in Santa or was lying to her about Santa, she lost her ability to trust her. About anything. It’s a break in trust that makes my kids feel very uncertain about this adult’s character, which isn’t what you want your child to experience with a teacher or a dentist or any other important adult in their world.
I have some regret that I didn’t handle that moment in the dentist’s office better. I wish I would have asked her to clarify and let her know that we always tell our kids the truth. But since I can’t go back to that moment, I want to do a little education here:
Don’t lie to my kids.
Don’t lie to save their feelings. Don’t lie to make them calm or keep them calm. Don’t lie because you think it’s cute for them to believe something untrue. I believe this is the best way to raise all kids, but I think it is not just a preferred method, but the only way to help kids who have experienced trauma. Their brains need intentional trust building on a daily basis. Lying creates a very unsteady foundation for a relationship. If they can’t trust us to let them know when a shot is coming, then a shot could be coming at any time. When we do our best to prepare our kids, they learn two important things: they learn we can be trusted to tell them even difficult truths and they learn we believe they are strong enough to handle even difficult moments.
If you work with kids, I’m not asking you to go out of your way to scare them. I’m not asking you to answer questions they aren’t asking with information they don’t need. I am asking you to answer direct questions with direct answers, or to at least have a conversation with a parent beforehand to figure out what this specific child needs or to refer kids back to their parents for answers. But don’t lie. Don’t tell them things will be “no big deal” or “you won’t even feel it” when you know that’s not true. I know you may be most focused on just getting through this tense moment, but that’s not our endgame. We’re working on building trust. That only happens when we tell the truth.