It wasn’t a lie the first time
The scene: We’re at the end of a 15 minute drive home after a busy day and V has fallen asleep (it’s slightly past her bedtime).
As I take her out of the car she sort of wakes up. I bring her upstairs as she increasingly starts complaining that she’d like to see her TV. She’s so brokenhearted and groggy that I lie her on the bed and tell her I’ll be right back to bring her back downstairs. (I really have to go to the bathroom).
I come back into her room and she’s asleep. I tiptoe out of the room, head downstairs and stuff a chocolate in my face, hoping it will shove the guilt back down where it belongs.
Then start to plan to have her in the car around bedtime again tomorrow.