spill it

I pick my son up at school. And I tell him I had a conversation with the neighbor, which I did. And I told my son I needed to talk to him about something, which I did. I tell him that the neighbor saw him driving around and that the neighbor mentioned screeching tires on pavement. That was a lie. The car is an 8 cylinder Mustang so I figured I would just mess with him a bit. I have used this gag on him before. But for whatever reason, he bit. So I ask him if wants to confess first before I call him out on it, which is a total load of horse hockey at this point. But he bites and begins to tell me he tried to stop at a red light but couldn’t, screeched the tires, but had to drive through it. It was a section of road that had two lights a few yards apart. He got a green light on the first light, sped up, thought the second would turn quicker, didn’t, screeched, saw he was going to be stopped in the middle of the intersection, and just floored it.

After he gives me the whole rundown, I ask if he has anything else he needs to tell me. He assures me there was nothing else. It was, at that supreme moment of bloated all-knowingness, that I reveal to him Dave really didn’t tell me that. Too late. The hook was set. The fish was in the boat. And he was gasping for air.

I love duping my kids into confession. I guess it’s as close as I will get to being a top secret agent spy kind of person.

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