Parents Hide Smoking From Their Kids. I Told Mine The Truth.

My husband gave up smoking in 2020 before the arrival of our first daughter. Then he picked it up again right before our second daughter was born.

He thought he was being stealthy about it. I played along — until he started lying to our daughters about it.

Smoking might be a bad habit, but lying about it is worse.

Growing up in a smoking cold war

As with all trauma, it goes back to childhood. 

My father had asthma his whole life. I remember a rough patch when he was getting frequent attacks. My mother, ever the supportive wife, would say things like, “Smoke some more then! One day you’ll drop dead and your girls won’t have a father.”

Encouraging stuff.

To be fair, it worked — for a while. My father quit smoking. Then he started again.

That’s when I was recruited as my mother’s spy.

“Daddy is home. Go hug him and smell him. Tell me what he smells like,” she would order.

I would obediently skip to the door, only to be greeted by my dad saying, “Ah, the narc is here, waiting to get me into trouble.”

This went on for years. My dad smoked. My mum threw away his lighters. He got angry. They argued.

Growing up, only villains in movies would be seen smoking. But I knew my dad wasn’t a bad guy.

I remember the police ads and tag lines: Too tuff to puff. One puff and you’re hooked. Smoke shaped like handcuffs.

The messaging worked — I had no interest in becoming a smoker.

But I did want to know what the big deal was.

I tried a cigarette at 10

I knew where the cigarettes were kept. And I was highly curious. One afternoon after school, when no one was home, my 10-year-old self decided it was time to feed my rebellious spirit.

I pulled open the drawer, took out the cigarette pack and inhaled deeply.

Mmm. Smelled like raisins. But where was the lighter?

I took a cigarette, went to the kitchen stove and lit it like a candle, then ran to the balcony. I put it to my lips and sucked.

Nothing.

I repeated this a few more times. Still nothing.

Why wasn’t there smoke? Why wouldn’t it stay lit?

Finally, I marched back to the stove, stuck the now bent and damp cigarette into the flame and took a long, strong suck.

Success.

I took maybe three or four proper puffs before stubbing it out, throwing it down the chute and air-freshening the entire house.

That was smoking? That was what my parents were constantly arguing about?

My head felt a little light, and my mouth felt fuzzy. Smoking didn’t taste like raisins.

Smoking was not for me, and I’ve never picked up the habit.

Turns out the mystery was more powerful than the cigarette.

Kids know when you’re lying

Economist George Loewenstein proposed that curiosity arises when we notice a gap between what we know and what we want to know.

The constant drama around smoking — especially between my parents — pushed me to fill that gap myself.

Now, when my husband mysteriously vanishes after every meal, my 5-year-old and 3-year-old have questions.

Questions that used to be answered with “I’m going to the shop” or “I’m going to walk the dog”. Lies that I very quickly shut down with an even louder: “No he’s not. Dada’s going to smoke!”

The first time I did this triggered a long argument with my husband. His only defence was: “I just don’t want the girls to know that I smoke.”

Not good enough, so I kept correcting him. “Nope, he’s not going for a walk. He’s going to smoke.”

One day after another of these mysterious “trips to the shop”, my 5-year-old said bluntly: “I know you don’t really go to the shop because you never buy anything.”

As we all know, lying is a quick fix. But when the questions come, it quickly snowballs.

I could see it on my husband’s face — deciding whether to spin another lie or finally tell the truth.

Being caught is never pleasant. Being called out by a 5-year-old? Even worse.

Eventually, he came clean.

Since then, my daughter has seen him smoke. She has asked to see the cigarettes and even asked if she could touch one.

Ah, the things I indulge her in.

Playing the long game with my kids

Being upfront with my firstborn seems to have dulled the intrigue, for now. But who knows whether it will work the same way with my second child.

Since cigarette prices went up with the 20% tobacco tax hike, my husband has made that classic smoker’s vow: “That’s it. I’m quitting.”

Do I buy it? Not really.

But I also have no intention of policing him the way my mother once did. I have better ways to spend my time.

My hope is that if my daughters ever consider smoking, they’ll realise there are far better ways to spend their money.

Honesty, for me, is about playing the long game — building trust so that nothing is off-limits and they feel free to ask questions.

If one day I find a lighter in their bag and they tell me, “It’s not mine, I’m holding it for a friend,” I would believe them. Because I was the friend who helped to hide everyone’s cigarettes and lighters — for a small fee, of course. Story for another time.

In the end, honesty probably won’t prevent everything. But it keeps the conversation open.

And here’s my unpopular opinion. If my girls reach the legal smoking age of 21 and decide to smoke, I might not care all that much.

For now, they understand one thing: it’s a bad habit, and once you start, it’s hard to stop.

And honestly, that’s good enough for me.

Jill Lim is the perpetually exhausted mother of two girls and an adopted dog. Dark humour and cynicism are her love language. Like and subscribe at @killjilllll.