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At snack time one recent Monday, I asked our little guy, “Did you have a good weekend, Bubba?” Mondays are switch days in our house. Every family that shares custody is familiar with switch days.

He nodded, and proceeded to outline the past weekend’s Series of Events. After he had finished, pausing to shovel some Goldfish into his mouth, he asked, “What did you and daddy do?”

I paused. Then, I lied. “Oh, nothing much. But we had a good weekend.” He smiled and kept eating his snack.

I didn’t tell him that Stacy and I had spent a glorious weekend camping, just the two of us. Even though couple’s camping is a serious rarity, we are accustomed to camping as a family every weekend that we have the kiddos, all summer–we have them every-other weekend, so that usually equates to five or six outings per summer. Sadly, this year, that didn’t happen.

Extreme flooding across the Midwest forced our favorite campground (and most of the campgrounds in the state, actually) to close for the whole summer. Off and on, we each lamented our camping-less summer. Stacy and I had a serendipitous opportunity to go, and so we did. It seemed cruel to rub it in Bub’s face.

It’s not the first time I’ve lied to the Littles in our house, and it won’t be the last. We have the tooth fairy. We have Santa Claus. As an adult, I know they have a lot of disappointing truths ahead of them–that’s just a part of life. As a parent, I want to shield them from that disappointment as long as I can.

What’s a lie you’ve told your children?