Telling your kid a white lie feels harmless, but it isn't. What I do instead.

“We’re out of cookies.” “The remote is broken — guess we can’t watch TV.” “Whoops, the pool is closed today.” Many parents end up telling the occasional white lie to their kid — often out of exhaustion or to avoid the inevitable meltdown or power struggle that comes after saying no. But while these minor fibs seem harmless in the moment, they can actually undermine a child’s trust in themselves and you.

In the fifth episode of their podcast After Bedtime With Big Little Feelings, Big Little Feelings founders Deena Margolin, a child therapist specializing in interpersonal neurobiology, and Kristin Gallant, a parenting coach with a background in maternal and child education, chat about some of the white lies they’ve told their own kids — and the surprising repercussions that followed. For Yahoo’s column After After Bedtime, Margolin shares three steps parents can take to help set boundaries without resorting to fudging the truth. And if your kid should still catch you in a small fib? Here’s what to do.

Let’s be real: We’ve all done it. “The park is closed.” “The tablet is broken.” “This is spicy, you won’t like it.” (Spoiler alert: It’s cake, they’d absolutely love it.) “The ice cream truck only plays music when it’s out of ice cream.”

These tiny fibs usually come from one place: parental survival. You’re exhausted. You’ve repeated yourself 400 times. You just need to make it through the next five minutes without a meltdown. And in those moments, a white lie feels like the easiest way to get there.

But here’s the thing: Truth builds trust. Research shows that kids, even as young as age 3, can detect inconsistencies between what adults say and what they do. And kids who are frequently lied to? They’re more likely to lie to themselves and less likely to trust their caregivers over time.

Now does that mean you’ve ruined your child because you fibbed about the park being closed? Absolutely not. The goal isn’t perfection — it’s awareness, repair and modeling honesty in age-appropriate ways. So how do we handle these gray areas? Here are some suggestions.

Ask yourself: Is this a shortcut or a boundary with room for big feelings?

Lying usually feels like the fastest way out of a hard moment. “The tablet’s broken” feels easier than saying, “No more shows” — and then dealing with the meltdown that follows. But here’s the thing: Shortcuts don’t build skills. Boundaries do. Instead of reaching for a lie, you can try holding the limit honestly: “We’re done with the tablet for today. I know that’s hard to hear. It’s OK to feel upset.”

You’re still saying no, but you’re doing it in a way that makes space for the big feelings that come with it. That’s not weakness — that’s regulation. That’s leadership. Every time you choose truth plus a calm boundary, you’re teaching your child, “I can be told the truth.” “I can feel big feelings and move through them.” “My parent is safe, steady and honest, even when it’s hard.”

Catch it? Name it. Repair it.

If your child calls you out for a little white lie that slipped out (and they will), be honest: “You’re right. I said the iPad was broken. That’s not true; I made a mistake. IPad time is done today, and we will have more tomorrow.” This is where the magic happens, because now you’re modeling accountability and emotional safety (instead of gaslighting them).

When in doubt, keep it simple and kind.

You don’t have to explain the entire truth to a 4-year-old. You just have to stay grounded in it. Try: “We don’t have time to go to the park today, but I will find a time for us to go this week.” “TV time is done today. We will have more soon.” “I don’t want to share right now. Let’s find something you can enjoy too.”

No lies. Just limits — with love.

So the takeaway? You’re not a bad parent if you’ve lied to your kid. You’re human. But every moment is a chance to build, or rebuild, trust. Because while there’s no gold star for “most honest parent of the year,” there is a deep, lasting connection when your child knows: I can trust what my parent says. I can believe in their words. They see me, they respect me, and they tell me the truth, even when it’s hard. And that’s the kind of honesty that changes everything.