Pants On Fire

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I've been lying about my age... to my 8 year old. It began so innocently, like any good old fashioned deception...  
Three years ago, on my birthday, Kid Two asked me how old I was. I told him to guess. I know...that was really taking a risk, because if he had said fifty-three I would have locked myself in my room with a magnum of wine and a straw and ugly cried.
He didn't even have to think. "Thirty".  I was actually thirty-six, so I was all flattered and everything. He was 5 at the time, so the fact that I like, "believed" he knew what he was talking about says a lot about how lame I am. Here's where I get even lamer(That is a real word according to Urban Dictionary)...I totally told him he was right. And then I hugged him and he became my favorite child.
My 40th(it really hurt to type that) will have its way with me in 5 months. Mark and my well meaning family have been talking about it in the presence of myself(like I died already or something) and Kid Two. He currently thinks I am thirty- three because I am a liar-liar-pants-on-fire. I decided to come clean with him. I informed him that I am really not thirty-three, and I asked how hold he thinks I might be. Remember, I am lame so I tried this one again. "Fifteen?" (Okay. For reals...he is my favorite. Judge me all you want.) I told him I'm older than dad. "Well you can't be ninety-nine..."
ummm...no I can't(?!). His favoriteness is wearing off...
"Dad is thirty-seven. I am two years older than him. How old will I be on my next birthday?" He thought good and hard. His face changed slowly from deep thought to a kind of horror/disappointment. "Holy cow?! You're gonna be f o r t y..."
He said it all disgusted and sad and then he added..."Wow...You. Are. O l d ." 
And just like that, Kid One is my favorite.


Moral:
If you're gonna lie about your age, freaking commit to it.

Shhh*t. I totally should have committed.

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