My daughter is almost 11, and lately, lying has become a frequent challenge. It shows up in little ways — about school, sports, how she’s spending her time. She attends a charter school that encourages close parent involvement, so I often find myself catching these small untruths day after day, which has been tough.
She’s a bright, capable kid. And interestingly, she can go long stretches — months even — without any lies. But when it starts again, it’s like a downward spiral. She shuts down, becomes angry and withdrawn, sometimes even rude. It feels like she’s drowning. During those times, we step in — we stay close, help her with her routines, show up at school and sports, and gradually things settle. She starts to feel better. She’s honest again. The connection is there.
But now, as she’s on the cusp of adolescence, she’s pushing for more independence — and understandably so. She doesn’t want us involved in the same ways anymore. And that’s where my worry sets in: What if I miss the signs next time? What if she starts to spiral again and I’m not close enough to catch it?
She’s a joyful, social kid. She loves talking with me and spending time with family — at least I think so. I just want to support her without smothering her. I want her to know she can come to me, even when she’s struggling, even when she’s not proud of her choices.
First, I want to say — you’re showing up. You’re noticing patterns, you’re tuning into your daughter, and you’re thinking ahead. That matters. A lot. You’re not alone, and your concern is valid.
Let’s talk about lying. Because lying isn’t actually a sign that something’s wrong with your child. It’s a sign that your child is human. And more importantly, it’s often a clue that your child is feeling overwhelmed, ashamed, or disconnected — and is using lying as a way to protect herself.
I want to gently shift your lens: instead of thinking “how do I get my child to stop lying?”, I want you to think:
👉 “What is my child trying to protect by lying?”
👉 “What does lying give her that she doesn’t feel safe getting another way?”
At 10, going on 11, she’s in this liminal space — no longer a little kid, not quite a teen. She’s craving independence and autonomy while still deeply needing connection and structure. That’s a hard place to be. And in that space, kids often test boundaries and struggle to regulate the push-pull of “I want to do it myself” and “I still need your help.”
So let’s reframe: her lying isn’t a moral failure. It’s a signal. And your job isn’t to control her lying — it’s to stay connected to her through it.
Here’s what I’d recommend:
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Start with safety, not shame – “Hey, I’ve noticed it’s been harder for you to be honest lately. I wonder if something feels hard or scary and you’re trying to handle it all by yourself. I want you to know — no matter what’s going on, we can face it together. You don’t have to carry things alone.”
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Use curiosity, not punishment – After a lie, instead of “Why did you lie?!” try:
“I’m wondering what felt tricky in that moment. What felt too hard to say out loud?”
That invites reflection, not defense. And when kids feel less shame, they feel safer telling the truth. -
Name the cycle, together – It sounds like you’ve already noticed her pattern: honesty → slipping → lying → anger → reconnection → stability → repeat. What if you talked about it with her, compassionately?
“I’ve noticed something and I want to share it with you, not to make you feel bad, but to help us understand each other better. I’ve seen this pattern where things get hard, and you start to keep secrets. Then you feel alone, and maybe even ashamed. I wonder if we can figure out a plan together for when that cycle starts again, because it probably will — and that’s okay.” -
Support her autonomy – Kids this age need more say over their lives. So instead of intervening for her, build structures with her.
“I know you want more space — that makes sense. How can we make sure you still feel supported, even if we’re not checking in on every detail?”
Remember, your daughter is not broken. She’s not bad. She’s a good kid having a hard time. She’s using lying to try and protect something inside her — maybe her sense of worth, or safety, or control. Our job is to stay close enough to say, “You don’t need to lie to be safe with me. I can handle your truth.”
And maybe, most of all: lying doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. It means she doesn’t yet feel safe enough to be her full self — flaws and all — with you. But that can change. And it starts with connection.
You’re doing great. Keep going.