Recent Conversation:

Mom: How'd you do in the Guitar Hero competition?

Child: Eliminated in the first round. I shouldn't have entered.

Mom: You shouldn't have told everyone you'd kick their butts.

Child: The guitar is different than Rock Band, I'd never played the song, and the kid I was against has no life.

Mom: You mean, what they usually say about you, Mr. Video Drone?

Child: Then some guy who was playing medium level - medium! - said "Boy, that kid sucks."

Mom: What did you say?

Child: I said, "Why don't you try getting 85% on expert level before you say I suck, loser."

Mom: I would have said, "I didn't do too bad for my first time playing Guitar Hero."

Child: You're telling me to half-lie.

Mom: What?

Child: They're pretty much the same game. <Eyes narrowing, seeing opportunity to share misery.> You know, I think you are a half-liar. Is that something you want to teach your kid?

It's true. Much as I aspire to be an honest, forthright person, I am a half-liar. We called them Little White Lies, but I like my son's description better. The lies I tell are half-way to the truth, characterized by omission, deflection or deliberate ambiguity. Okay, sometimes they barely clear a quarter of the way.

Half-lies can be used nobly, protecting other's feelings, like a husband's answer to "Do these pants make me look fat?" But I also use half-lies to protect my self-image, just like my son used boasting, finger-pointing, and excuse-making.

I still call my Sunday meeting with friends "our walk," even though the reasonable walking distance coffee shop closed and we now drive to another. Well, we walk from the parking lot to the door, don't we?

Can I trace hair-splitting to avoiding parental disapproval or do I have a devious nature? In early childhood, "I didn't touch the vase" meant "Technically, the bat knocked over the vase." Teen years created the unoriginal answer to "What time did you get home last night?" as "Sometime after midnight." Oddly, my parents quickly comprehended I touched the bat and 3 am is after midnight.

Still, as my son deviously pointed out, deflecting his own flaws: as a role model, I guess it's a habit I should break.