For nearly a year, anything I didn’t want to do could be blamed on Covid. I’d better mend my ways soon, though
Like a lot of parents, I made a vague rule for myself when my children were born, which was never to lie about their health to get out of something. One of the best things about having kids is that they give you a solid decade of excuses not to go, do or see anything you don’t want to, and there’s a lot of room for tweaking the truth within that.
In my mind, however, I drew a firm line between “we have a play date, can’t come” and the “my kid has a fever” get-out-of-jail-free card, which, on the off-chance that the universe functions exactly in line with my superstitions, seemed too tempting an invitation to fate. I will lie, but not, you know, like that.
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