Saima Ayub

As parents and guardians we think of lying as a moral crack in the wall. But when it comes to children, truth is usually softer, and sadder.&nbsp;Children lie because of fear.&nbsp;They are not afraid of prison or police rather our faces. They are afraid of our silence. Afraid of disappointing the people whose approval feels like everything.&nbsp;A child who breaks a glass does not first think about right or wrong. He thinks about what will happen next. Will there be shouting? Will love feel distant? In that quick, anxious moment, a lie becomes a small shield. &ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t me.&rdquo; It is not wickedness speaking. It is fear trying to survive.&nbsp;If we are honest with ourselves, we may remember doing the same.&nbsp;There is also imagination, a bright and restless force in childhood. A five-year-old may&nbsp;insist the cat opened the cupboard or the wind pushed the vase. To us it sounds like&nbsp;deliberate deception. But in a young mind, imagination and reality often sit side by side.&nbsp;The child is not carefully constructing fraud. He is escaping guilt the only way he knows how, through story.&nbsp;As children grow older, their lies change shape.&nbsp;An older child may hide poor marks. A teenager may lie about where she was. These lies&nbsp;are not about spilled milk anymore. They are about identity. About wanting to be seen as&nbsp;capable, responsible, mature.&nbsp;Children care deeply about how we see them. Sometimes more than we realize.&nbsp;When expectations are high and mistakes feel unbearable, truth begins to look dangerous. There is also another quiet reason: children are learningsome point. At some point a child discovers that thoughts are private. That adults cannot see inside&nbsp;their minds. It is a startling discovery. With it comes experimentation. &ldquo;If I say this, will they believe me?&rdquo; It is less a plan to deceive and more a test of the world.&nbsp;None of this means lying should be ignored. Trust, once damaged, is difficult to rebuild. But punishment alone rarely builds honesty. It often builds better liars.&nbsp;If every confession is met with anger, the child learns to hide more carefully next time.&nbsp;What then helps?Calmness helps.&nbsp;When a child admits, &ldquo;Yes, I broke it,&rdquo; and hears, &ldquo;Thank you for telling me,&rdquo; something important happens. The mistake still matters. The consequence may still follow. But the&nbsp;child learns that truth does not cancel love.&nbsp;That lesson stays.&nbsp;We must also look at ourselves. Children notice the small things. When we say on the&nbsp;phone, &ldquo;Tell them I&rsquo;m not home,&rdquo; they are listening. When we exaggerate stories or twist&nbsp;facts, they are watching. We cannot demand honesty in a language we do not speak.&nbsp;A lying child is not a lost child.More often, it is a worried child. Or an ashamed child. Or simply a growing child trying to&nbsp;manage feelings too large for his small hands.&nbsp;If we want honesty, we must make it safe. Safe to fail. Safe to confess. Safe to be imperfect.&nbsp;The real question is not, &ldquo;Why is my child lying?&rdquo;&nbsp;Perhaps it is, &ldquo;What is my child afraid of losing if they tell the truth?&rdquo;&nbsp;When we answer that gently &mdash; not with authority alone, but with understanding, we&nbsp;may find that the lies grow fewer, and the conversations grow deeper.&nbsp;And that is where trust truly begins.

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Children often lie from fear, imagination, or growing identity, not malice. Honesty grows when adults respond calmly, model truth, and make mistakes safe, showing that truth never cancels love, trust, or belonging for children everywhere.

The psychology behind kids lying

Walk into any classroom today and the effects of modern parenting are obvious. Some children sit rigidly, waiting for instructions; others move through the day as if limits are optional. After years of observing families and schools, one truth is clear: both strictness without explanation and freedom without structure fail to cultivate the character parents and teachers aim to build. We want to raise thoughtful, self-disciplined adults. Yet many homes swing between the iron fist and the open palm, between command and negotiation, producing not maturity but confusion. Neither extreme teaches children to govern themselves. The tyranny of fixed rules Strict parents value order and respect. Their homes run on directives delivered from on high, &quot;Do your homework now,&quot; with little warmth or explanation. The short-term results can be impressive: obedient children, polite manners, quiet households. But this discipline is rooted in fear, not understanding. Research shows that rules without reasoning create compliance that collapses once the authority figure disappears. Children raised under constant control often develop anxiety, resentment, or outright rebellion.&nbsp; They learn to obey, not to comprehend. And obedience without comprehension is easily abandoned the moment independence arrives. The chaos of unbounded love At the opposite end are permissive parents, warm, loving, and eager to avoid conflict. But in their quest to preserve peace, everything becomes negotiable: bedtimes, homework, even basic routines. Consequences feel &ldquo;too harsh,&rdquo; and boundaries soften into suggestions. This feels compassionate in the moment, yet it leaves children unprepared for life beyond the living room. Educators see the results daily: difficulty with limits, poor self-control, impulsivity, and lower academic performance.&nbsp; Freedom without responsibility may feel gentle, but it ultimately traps children in their own impulses. Love without limits is simply another form of chaos. The path to self-discipline Both extremes overlook the real goal: helping children develop an inner compass. The most effective approach, supported by research and common sense, is the balanced model psychologists call authoritative parenting: firm but warm, structured but respectful. This style replaces punishment with guidance. It means offering clear rules but explaining the reasoning behind them. It means granting autonomy within boundaries, &lsquo;Turn off the phone at nine so your brain can rest for school, or Do your homework before or after dinner&mdash;you choose&rsquo;. These small choices teach judgment and build confidence. Children raised this way learn not only what to do, but why. And once they grasp the &ldquo;why,&rdquo; they carry the rule with them even when no one is watching. Ultimately, every child needs three assurances: That they have a voice. That they are capable. That they are loved. A strict home creates brittle obedience. A permissive home breeds drifting freedom. The middle path, love with limits, creates adults who can steer themselves. Parenting, at its best, is neither dictatorship nor friendship. It is guidance: steady, warm, and firm, teaching children that life has rules, and those rules have reasons. Only then do they learn to watch themselves, not because someone demands it, but because they have learned to do so.

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Strict parenting breeds fear and rebellion, while permissiveness creates chaos and poor self-control. A balanced, authoritative approach best develops children’s inner discipline by combining clear rules, explanations, and meaningful autonomy.

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The psychology behind kids lying

Why both strict and lenient parents fail to build character

The psychology behind kids lying