When I was young, we had the typical parent dynamic of 1:1 strict/lenient ratio. Mom was laid back and figured we were allowed to find our own fun while my dad was more critical. However, both agreed on the “no underage drinking” policy.
So my brother, fresh out of Freshman year and with his typical 15 y.o. “bro” egging him on, snuck tequila out of my parents’ liquor cabinet and took about 5 shots each while my parents were sleeping upstairs.
Almost immediate regret.
Half an hour later, there’s a cycle of being totally obliterated on the couch and worshiping the porcelain god. The whole while they’re “sneaking around” to not wake up my folks.
The next morning, my dad pulls my brother aside and asks what happened the night before. My brother tries to blow it off, but my dad just dead-eyes him and says “That tequila made its way into the toilet somehow, I don’t care if it was out one end or the other.”
Brother fesses up. My dad nods, slaps him on the arm, and says “I think this is one lesson your mother doesn’t need to hear about.” – chocolate_pancake
I was golfing with my dad one time when I was super young. I was standing next to the cart while my dad said he was driving to go get his ball and I should wait here. Idiotic child that I was, I stood next to the wheel and got my foot ran over by a golf cart. Amazingly, I didn’t break anything and My dad and I agreed to never mention it to Mom. – Sarlot_the_Great