How honest is too honest?

Here's the deal: I have always been pretty good about telling others what I think. I don't hold my tongue. I say things that are often followed by blank stares. And I have been known to lay in bed at night and panic as I replay all the potentially insensitive comments that I threw out during social gatherings. Jimmy swears I verbally vomit for shock factor.

But the truth? I simply have no filter.

For example, last week we were at dinner with our sweet small group friends and I started to get really sick. The stomach bug had been running rampant around Tulsa and I was the next victim. Rather than leave quietly and explain later, I promptly walked out of the bathroom and stated, "Here's the deal: I just had explosive diarrhea and I think we need to leave." I was comforted by a few sympathetic smiles, a couple of chuckles, and one blessed "Hey! We're among friends here!"

And here I am blogging about it. On the world wide web. Again, I have no filter.

I am sad to say that this need to express what is pressing on my mind has carried over to my parenting. Jimmy and I always try to be honest with Pearce. I mean, I have certainly been tempted to tell him that if he tinkles in the bathtub a crocodile might get him, but someday he will actually tinkle in the tub and learn that my crocodile threats are much like the ice cream carton after a long day: empty.

So we try to be honest. For example, we use the real words for private parts when talking with Pearce. (Gasp!) I just feel odd using kid-friendly words with Pearce when discussing his anatomy. I figure he needs to hear it from Jimmy and I rather than some preteen book on adolescence. I even tried once to tell Pearce how he got his bellybutton. But would you believe the poor kid glazed over when I started using words like "placenta" and "umbilical cord"? Too much too soon, Mom.

Pearce likes to drink his bathwater and I am forever trying to remind him of the day's previous poopy diapers so he too, will grossed out about the concept of drinking dingy bathwater. I use words like germs, dirt, poop, and yucky to scare him into bathwater abandonment. He has also been chewing on those crazy Zany Bands lately and I am constantly telling him not to put them in his mouth because he could choke and die. Because he could choke and I am not sure I remember all the steps to saving a choking victim. Again, he needs to know.

But there are some things poor Pearce doesn't need to know and I have been known to share too much with the kiddo. This was the reality that slapped me smack in the face today. Like most two year olds, Pearce is quite dramatic. And he loves fruit snacks. So everyday we have the same discussion.

Pearce: "Mommy, I want some fruit snacks."
Me: "No Pearce, you can't have fruit snacks for breakfast. You can have some after your nap."
Pearce: "But I want sommmmmmeeeee." (picture a tot dropping his toosh to the floor)
Me: "Well sweetie, we don't always get what we want."
Pearce: "But I want some, puhleasssseeee."
Me: "Well, Mommy would like a lift and lipo-suction but it's not happening so we have to accept it."

Silence. And it always settles the conversation.

Until today.

Today started out like another other day. Pearce wanted fruit snacks before his nap. And for the record, let me just tell you that this kiddo has never had fruit snacks at breakfast. He is sort of an Olympian. He eats things like eggs, berries, and yogurt for breakfast. And he loves toast. So the news that fruit snacks are a "pre-nap no-no" should not be shocking for the little negotiator.

Anyways, we started our usual dialogue of "What Pearce Wants" after lunch today.  The conversation went something like this:

Pearce: "Mommy, I want some fruit snacks."
Me: "No Pearce, we don't eat fruit snacks before our nap. You can have some after your nap."
Pearce: "But I want some fruit snacks before my nap."
Me: "Well sweetie, you know what I want?"
Pearce and his wide eyes: "Bipo -sucton?"

I was shocked. Stunned. Amused. Inspired.

I should have been intentional.

"Yes dear, now that I know you are listening, take notes and tell Daddy. I do want lipo suction. And a minivan. And a vacation. And a massage every day. And a live-in cook. And an unlimited clothing budget. And world peace."

"Don't forget to tell daddy!"

... If only it were that easy.