The Lie: Of course you’ll be good-looking when you grow up. Your mother’s good-looking, and so am I.
The Truth: Neither of them will be good-looking when they grow up. Their mother is good-looking, it’s true, but I am not. Sadly, it would thus far seem that their physical characteristics have been inherited largely from me: the severe brow, the misshapen nose, the thin hair, the unpleasant appearance. Looking at my kids is like looking into one of those fun-house mirrors that makes you look really short (and unattractive).
On the flip side, their faces also serve as constant reminders that they’re definitely my kids, and not some other guy’s, which is occasionally something I take pleasure in knowing.