Grown Ups Lie

I had set my alarm the night before. Twice. I wanted to make sure I would be up with the sun because that was prime morning dew time. The anticipation that was burbling through my tiny six-year-old body woke me minutes before the chime of my alarm clock had the chance. As the sleepy sun peaked over the mountains, I jolted out of bed and clambered out of the house throwing myself face first onto the freshly dewed lawn.
I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved my freckled face into the grass, swiping it back and forth until I couldn't hold my breath anymore. Satisfied with my efforts, I tore myself off the ground and bolted into the bathroom, like a dog after a bone, to see if it worked. As my eyes met my reflection my heart sank to a depth it had never felt before. Disappointment? Confusion? Anger? At six years old, I honestly didn't have a word for how betrayed I felt.
I had done everything just like he had told me to do...but my freckles were still relentlessly splattered across my tanned cheeks showing no promise of disappearing. Did I do it wrong? Did I not do it enough?
As I stood there in dismay with my eyes locked on the mirror a rumble of laughter rolled through the room. I slowly turned to find my parents leaning in the kitchen door frame looking at me with pitiful humor dancing in their eyes. What was so funny? What was I missing?
It was just a joke, they said. Uncle Rick tricked me. He was lying. I learned a new word that day. Lying. I mean, I had heard it before, but I didn't really understand what it meant. At that very moment I knew one thing for certain. Grown ups lie.