Don't believe me? This is what my mother said when I asked why we had so many baby photos of Skye, and none of me: "Well, by the time the second baby comes, it's just not that exciting." She went on to point out that my sister and I looked astonishingly similar as infants, so she didn't want to waste the film.
My mother's take on childrearing might be slightly out of the ordinary.
Since every woman turns into her mother, my own honesty can be a little frightening. I must cross the line a dozen times per day, and never even notice. I've probably offended all of you without even trying. Hell, some days I offend myself.
I ought to know better. I know that if a friend says, "Can I be honest?" it means, "Can I be brutal?" I know "I'm just being honest!" means, "I'm being mean, but cloaking myself in forthrightness so I seem like a good person." And I know sometimes an indirect answer could keep me out of a whole mess of trouble.
But I also know direct questions deserve direct answers, that the truth will come out, and that nobody wants to be seen in pants that make their butt look like the hind end of the Hindenberg.
How did you decide your level of honesty? Or do you think it is predetermined, like hair and eye color?