In Alex Sanchez and Julie Maroh’s new take on Aqualad’s origin story, You Brought Me the Ocean, Jake dreams of the sea. He isn’t really sure why; he doesn’t even know how to swim and his mom insisted they move to one of the driest places in the country after his father drowned.

At least, that’s the explanation she gives him for years.

She also tells him the markings on his skin are “just birthmarks,” his constant need for hydration is due to the desert climate, and her overprotectiveness is just “mom stuff.”

Every one of those things is a lie.

And though Jake may not know his mother is lying to him, he knows. Which is why, when his “birthmarks” start to glow around water (and he starts to be able to control water when they do), he keeps his new abilities to himself. It’s why, when Jake realizes he’s in love with his classmate Kenny, he continues to let his mom think he’s in love with his best friend, Maria. And he’s so afraid to hurt Maria, Jake doesn’t tell her about Kenny even though he knows she has a crush on him.

In the story’s climax, because Jake’s learned to hide things and to lie by omission (which, by the way, is 100 percent lying), Jake does get hurt. And, in the end, because he tells Maria and Kenny the truth, they’re able to fight the final battle together – and because they’re together, they survive.

We all tell little white lies to get by. Yes, we’re out of M&Ms (because I’m going to need them later). Sure, we’ll do that later (we are not doing that later). I was totally listening when you talked about Minecraft (I was nodding and making noncommittal noises because if I have to hear about Ender-anything one. More. Time…).

Would humanity be better off if we were completely honest with one another all the time? Maybe? If everyone was prepared to be completely honest and accept both the consequences of truth and intention behind it. Those aren’t the lies I’m talking about.

Many adults try to hide the realities of the world from kids. On one level, I understand that: our first instinct, as parents, is to protect them. It starts as a genetic imperative (it’s why they look like us, why they’re cute, and why we’re unable to ignore that infant cry) and, as we bond with them, it becomes an emotional one. And yes, there are appropriate times to raise a given issue – we want a child to be old enough to understand the concepts at hand and the consequences attached to a given action.

But what does Jack’s mom achieve by hiding his father’s identity? By lying about why they moved to the desert, about the actual meaning of the markings on his skin?

She breaks his trust and, in so doing, teaches him that not only should he not trust others but that he isn’t worthy of trust. She inadvertently isolates him when he most needs his friends and family, not only because the truth of his family is about to emerge but also because Jack has realized he’s in love with his friend Kenny and is on the cusp of coming out in a town where doing so is as dangerous, if not more so, than making his meta-powers public.

In a time when Jack needs more support than he’s ever needed before, he doesn’t know where to look for it or think it’s his right to ask for it. Therefore, he, like his mother, lies to and hurts those he cares about the most, even though his intention is to protect.

If superhero stories have taught us anything, it’s that the “I was lying to protect you” plot never leads to any thing good. Even if the intention behind the omission is pure, whomever it is the hero is trying to keep safe ends up hurt anyway, either by a villain or by the lie. And the harm done by the lie is often worse than that which is done by the villain.

Because kids always find out. Most of them know from the beginning, even if they don’t know. Some kids will call you out, but most will live for years, or even their entire lives, with your lie because the person lying is their trusted adult. Their role model. The person who teaches them how to person. And if you hide things from them – important things – then they learn to do the same. They learn it’s better to suffer in silence – to be a martyr to their own pain – than to risk upsetting someone they love or rocking the family boat.

That isn’t what I want for my kids. I know it isn’t what you want for yours.

So tell them the truth. Even the hard parts. The ugly parts. Do it on their level. Ask for help from guidance counselors or therapists if you’re not sure how to proceed… but do it.

Trust me when I tell you that a few terrible minutes or hours will lead to a stronger, deeper relationship in the long run – one in which your kids come to you when they’re scared, when something important happens in their lives, or when they’re about to take a leap into the known.

If you trust them, they’ll learn to trust… and their relationships will be all the deeper for it and their lives so much better.