(This story happens when I am about ten years old. My mum’s best friend comes over with her two boys who are about my age. We are playing video games together while my mum chats with her friend in the dining room. The older boy takes an interest in one of my games, so when they end up leaving, I happily offer to lend him the game so he can play it some more at home.)
Mum’s Friend: “Oh, that’s okay; we have enough games at home!”
Me: “I don’t mind. He seems to like this one a lot, so as long as he brings it back next time it’s okay!”
Mum’s Friend: *to my mum* “Your daughter is a sweet kid. My children would never lend their friends anything.”
Mum: *scoffs* “That’s because your children are smart. My daughter is always throwing away everything we give her to her ‘friends.’”
Mum’s Friend: “Oh, don’t be silly! My children are the bratty ones, not yours!”
Mum: “Oh, no, you have it backward. Your kids know to value what they have. I wish my kids had even half the sense your kids have!”
(They go back and forth several times like this before my mum’s friend and her children eventually leave with the game. Although deep down it has always upset me, I am used to my mum putting me down in front of other people and exchanging weird child-shaming banter with her friends. I usually just try to ignore the things she says and pretend I can’t hear it. It’s very likely any memory of this incident would have blurred together with all the other ones… but for the fact that after the friend leaves, my mum almost immediately starts bad-mouthing her and her children, to my utter disbelief.)
Mum: “Wow, did you see how selfish those kids were? They barely let you touch their video games even though they had so many, and then they had the nerve to borrow your game with hardly a ‘thank you.’ I can’t believe [Mum’s Friend] raised such spoilt, selfish little brats. I’m glad you didn’t turn out like that.”
Me: *completely shocked* “But… you just told [Mum’s Friend] that you thought I was stupid for lending them the game. You said her kids were smarter than me. You even said you wished I was more like them.”
Mum: *condescendingly* “Well, of course, I told her that — to her face. I can’t praise you in front of her; it would seem arrogant and rude.” *looks at me* “What, did you honestly think I meant all those things I said about you?” *laughs* “Oh, you silly child. You should know better.”
(If I was supposed to find any of that reassuring, I didn’t. But that incident — which was also the first time I’d ever seen my mum flatter someone only to promptly turn around and speak badly behind their back, though it wouldn’t be the last — did teach me that my mum was a disturbingly good liar. I honestly never doubted her sincerity in basically trash-talking me to her friends until that moment, though I’ll admit that’s probably — at least in part — due to my naivete. But the whole experience certainly left a very sour taste in my mouth, and eroded much of any remaining trust I had in my mum from there on.)
