But maybe you still shouldn’t.

Yes, I said it.  And I mean it.  Sometimes, lying is absolutely the right thing to do.  Maybe.

I’ve told this lead-in story before, but I’ll repeat it for the sake of background:

This life lesson took place on my annual Father’s Day camping trip with my boys.  I go camping (and love it), while my wife gets a weekend to herself (aka Mother’s Day 2).  This was the first trip with all 3 boys (ages 2, 5, and 7) in 2015; a car camping trip to Yellowstone Lake State Park in southern Wisconsin.  It’s a nice park known for its bat population that keeps mosquito population in check.  The nightly bat flight is quite a thing to watch.

With one great night already complete, a great hike around the main trail in the morning, and late morning rain coming to an end, we decided to venture out and bike down the big hill to get some ice cream at the park concession stand.  I went first with our youngest in the bike trailer, followed by the older 2 boys on their own bikes.

Half way down the hill, I heard a yell and turned around to see Charlie (age 5) in an all out panic.  His front wheel was wobbling back and forth as he tried to gain control, but that quickly went worse.  His front wheel turned hard to the side, and he went hard over the handlebars, holding on the entire way.  He was hurt bad, in ways I wasn’t prepared to handle, especially being most of the way down this hill, away from our site and vehicle, and with limited first aid equipment.

Here’s where the story gets happier: as I was trying to calm down my oldest son and stay calm myself, two groups of people stopped.  They grabbed our bikes and trailer and put them in the back of a pickup.  They escorted Charlie and I into one vehicle and Henry and Jack in another and brought us back to our campsite.  We quickly put everyone in the van, left everything else sitting out, and drove to the ER.

Today’s life lesson begins on that trip to the ER.  My oldest is a worrier.  My middle child was screaming in pain because…see above.  My youngest was crying because, well, everyone else was crying.

That’s when the worrier asked me: “Dad, are you scared?”

Now, when he is scared, I can tell him not to be scared and that his brother is going to be fine.  I can tell him that we were headed to the hospital, where great nurses and doctors will take care of him.  I can tell him that people get in bike accidents all the time without any lasting injury.  But when he asks me if I am scared, I can’t lie, right?

Wrong.  I of course told him that I wasn’t scared.  I told him that if I thought everything wasn’t going to be perfectly fine by the end of the day, I would be scared and worried, but that I wasn’t.  And I did this because I needed to focus on driving that minivan to the hospital and him knowing I was scared isn’t going to help.

Was it okay to lie there?  I’m not sure.  I didn’t doubt it for a second back then.  Even years later, I think it was a great example of when to not show how I truly felt and show strength.  But now, I wonder if it would have been better for me to set an example of how to stay calm when I am scared and to show that I get scared.  Maybe that would have been the better life lesson: stay calm.  I could have shown my sons how you deal with tough situations: you take them in, recognize the feelings you’re having, and do what needs to be done.

Unfortunately, I’m sure I’ll get a redo someday.  I’ll be ready.