We’ve entered a new realm in my house. We are now in the “Honest Era”. Funny thing, I never realized we were living in the “Dishonest Era”. Thankfully, Big Guy brought it to our attention.

All those years, I thought I was being completely honest with my kids, I wasn’t. Those times I thought I was instilling confidence, I was telling stories. Using a commonly known parenting tactic called the “Little White Lie” strategy.

An online dictionary defines a lie as a type of deception in the form of an untruthful statement with the intention to deceive. This is accurate, but a bit too harsh of a classification for my strategy.

Yes, my strategy does boast “lie” in the title. But I wouldn’t say its intent is to deceive. I would prefer to define my strategy as more of a temporary state of dishonesty created to spare the feelings of those I am closest to. An exaggeration or slight misrepresentation of the truth. So slight I disregard the fact that I am being dishonest. My lie is a good lie.

I know. No such thing exists. A lie is a lie. As parents, we preach the importance of being honest to our children. Honesty is the best policy. It’s the foundation that our marriages are built upon. Without trust, you have nothing.

Yet, when you “little white lie” to spare feelings, is it really deceit? When it comes to your children and your husband, is it better to be a little bit dishonest?

Little White Lies were a key part of the preschool years. Wasn’t your refrigerator adorned with all the “beautiful” artwork the kids brought home from school? It was sentimental, but was it truly spectacular? Of course not. But I told them it was. There was the time I told Big Guy and Little Guy that all the cool, older kids eat broccoli. A lie. But they ate it.

I used my Little White Lie strategy as my then 6- and 8-year-old boys danced around the living room. At least they called it dancing. To me, it was a combination of Elaine (remember Seinfeld?) and gymnastics. But I managed to say, “Wow, those moves are awesome!” while trying to hide my laughter and confusion.

Little White Lies have helped end discussions I didn’t want to have. Such as Big Guy’s complicated question at age 7 as to how babies were made. Well, everyone knows it’s a seed in your belly from God. And the time I told Little Guy that I would absolutely look into BMX bike racing next week. Two months ago.

My Little White Lie strategy has also worked on Really Big Guy. It cushions the blow when I’ve had to tell him something he might not want to hear. Such as, “Honey, those shorts are nice, but maybe you should try the no-pleat shorts, like the Men’s Health model. You kind of look like him.” Or when he tells me something I don’t want to hear. Such as the answer to the eternal question, “Do these pants make my butt look big?”

Little White Lies. A little bit dishonest, yes. But intentional deceit? No. Does that still make it wrong?

It does when your kids are perceptive enough to be players in your game. My wake up call? At the beach. When Really Big Guy asked us to put sunscreen on his bald spot.

Hmm. A trick question. To agree to apply the sunscreen was to admit the little white lie I’d been telling. The lie where the spot has not increased in size for the past 10 years. To not apply the sunscreen would mean inevitable sunburn for my fair skinned hubby.

What to do? While I processed, Big Guy looked at me, silent but with a smirk. A smirk that told me he was onto my Little White Lie scheme. Should I make him an accomplice? Could I? It would be easy to - maybe even fun. But it would be a better teaching moment. I had to set an example.

Big Guy beat me to it. He said, “Dad, it’s a little bit bald. I’m not trying to be mean. No offense.” None was taken, for it was out of the mouth of his nine-year-old. And Really Big Guy already knew the truth.

As husband and wife, we already know the answers to the silly questions we ask. The half truth comments we make to spare feelings. The Little White Lies we tell each other are just a humorous way we take the edge off.

With kids, it’s different. In the early years, the Little White Lies allow us to skate by with simple yes and no answers. Provide uncomplicated explanations. The Little White Lies help us do our job in a way that small children understand.

Except our kids eventually catch on. And when they do, the Little White Lie strategy needs to be retired for our kids are ready to give and receive the truth.

So we’ve ushered in the “honest era." And we’ve christened our new, most essential companion phrase to this time: the “No Offense." The “no offense” is a free pass to speak the truth. With no hurt feelings.

I now know my new chicken dish was horrible. That the boys just want me to leave and close the door on my way out when they are playing together. That their father and I shouldn’t sing with the radio. Really Big Guy may try the no-pleat shorts. But I have to get rid of my old faded jeans. No Offense.

Illyse appears every Thursday on TriangleMom2Mom.