Over on Reddit today, dads have been answering a very sensitive question: "What's your best 'don't tell your mother about this' moment?" Obviously, this poses the risk of mom reading the thread and putting two and two together, but for the greater good of internet amusement, we're glad they're coming clean. Honesty is the best policy, don't you think?
Unless, of course, you did any of these things.
1. AmishElectricCompany is raising a future stunt-driver:
Dropped the wife off at work one snowy morning. Junior is in the back seat (about 3 yrs old). I said..."Hey, wanna go do some donuts in the parking lot?" I drove down the road a bit to an abandoned factory and we had a rip-roaring time for the next 15 minutes. He squealed and laughed the whole time, thought it was awesome.
Ever since, (he's 5 now), my wife can't figure out why he gets a hankering for Tim Horton's every time it snows.
2. shitstorm_delux lived up to his name with a rocket experiment:
I made a rocket and took it to the park with my son. It was more powerful than I imagined and wasn't balanced well.
I lit it.
the rocket flew a few hundred metres in the air before it started arcing downwards. I sort of lost sight of it shortly afterwards, and did the responsible thing. I grabbed the kid and ran away.
On the drive home, the radio reported that a 'firework' had entered a hall where some crinkly senior citizens were learning how to waltz or some shit, and had struck and knocked over a table holding a selection of sandwiches and cakes. The lady on the radio informed me that no one was hurt, but that the police and fire services were on the scene. My son looked at me dead in the eye and told me I was an idiot. He was 7 years old.
I had to buy him several new video games and a hat to keep it on the down low.
When we got home, the wife asked how our rocket had worked out. I lied and told her it didn't work and that it didnt lift off so i threw it in the bin.
The next day at breakfast she had the paper neatly folded in front of her, with the 'firework' story face up.
She didn't say anything, she just fucking stared at me with THAT look all over her face for like 20mins, but I pretended not to notice and ate more toast.fucking lol
3. Shostakovich22 didn't have reliable co-conspirators.
I have shared this before, but I took my older two sons to a baseball game at Yankee Stadium a little while back. They were 6 and 5 at the time. We were waiting in line at a concession stand and the boys were both right next to me. We were moving up in the line and I reached down to grab my 5 year old son's hand, but he wasn't there. I asked my older son if he saw where his brother went and he didn't, so I went into full panic mode. I was screaming his name, asking strangers if they saw him, etc. I honestly thought he was gone. I ended up finding him and everything was fine (he left because he was looking for a bathroom), but I felt horrible.
We had about a 2 hour ride home and I kept reminding them that this is probably something we should keep between us. They agreed. We got back home and they proudly ran to their mom to tell her that I lost the 5 year old. She surprisingly wasn't too upset.
4. Nor did SaveOurBrothers.
I was a coach at the high school I taught at. I promised the team that I would go to a professional tryout if they won their district. They won out and I kept up my end of the deal but had to take my kids since the wife was working. The wife absolutely hates me throwing because of past shoulder surgeries. Anyway, I ended up catching the scouts' eyes and threw a long session, found out after the fact that I was throwing near 100 mph.
Told the kids I would get them pizza if they didn't tell mom, the little brats told her the second we walked in the door. All the scouts left voicemails ruining the secret anyway, and it led to a cup of coffee at the major league level.
5. And mikevanatta... yep, you guessed it.
I'm divorced and my ex and I co-parent two young children - 6 and 4 years old. She's quite religious (Catholic) and I am not. This past spring, after talking it over with his mom and unbeknownst to me, our 6 year old decided to give up chocolate for Lent.
One weekend, when the kids were with me, I made chocolate chip cookies for them. 6 had one after dinner and, after he happily scarfed it down, he confessed to me that he was not supposed to have chocolate until Lent was over. I explained to him that it was okay, everyone makes mistakes, etc. and told him that we could keep it a secret and not tell his mom.
Fast forward to when I dropped them off with their mom. They get out of the car and the FIRST THING my 4 year old says to their mom is "DAD GAVE 6 A CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE!" That little snitch didn't say a peep about that cookie all weekend. He just logged it away and knew he was going to rat out his dad and his brother the first chance he got.
6. Born2Fish had a deadly yet delicious secret.
I had a buddy who had trapped a juvenile wild sow on his property. I had a big fenced dog run at my house and had aspirations of domesticating this wild pig. I named it Bacon and the true reason I was raising it was to fatten and butcher it. I didn't tell my wife that, but that isn't the point of this "don't tell your mother" story. Anyway, I went out and spent a lot of time with this pig, trying to fatten it up and visit it. But, I just couldn't ever get the wild out of the pig. Maybe because of boredom, but I would come home and this pig just fucked shit up constantly--it's feeder, the corner of my shed, the fence, whatever. After a little less than a year I decided I couldn't do it anymore. However, instead of butchering this thing, I was just going to release it on a large swath of Air Force property. I set about trying to catch this thing in the dog run. It took me an hour, but I eventually fashioned a dog pole out of stiff pvc and a noose of para cord and snagged the pig. By this time my wife actually liked the pig and begged, pleaded, and made me promise a humane capture and release. With the pig squealing and freaking out, I yell at my eleven year old son to grab a big cooler from the shed. He complies and I manage to stuff the pig in there. Pig was not happy and was bucking like a bronco trying to get out. I open the drain hole of the cooler for air, flip it upside down and make my son ride the mechanical bull to the AF property. After we get there I ask him if the pig is still thrashing and he said it calmed down about 5 minutes ago. I grab the cooler and prepare for the release. I open the lid and jump on the truck. No pig comes out. I look down and sadly the pig either suffocated or overheated. I don't know which one and I feel really bad. My son had a wide-eyed look on his face, and I tell him not to tell his mother what happened out here because of how much she had gotten attached to the pig. I butcher it, pack it out and slowly feed it to the family over the course of a few months. Son never says a word until 7 years later when he was 18 and I told him it was okay to come clean. The length of time had made it to where she wasn't super pissed.
TLDR: I killed a pig my wife had become attached to with the help of my son, slowly fed it to her, and son held the secret for 7 years.
7. And chowzas had a food secret of his own.
My older kid loves Chick Fil A. LOVES it. Mom is not a fan of the kids eating there because one time he and his sister had a late chick fil a dinner - all the salt made them thirsty and both kids drank tons of water - and both wet the bed that night.
So of course when my wife goes out of town with our daughter, I take the him to Chick Fil A and we have the 'don't tell Mom' conversation. BUT then I'm thinking hey I want to make sure he gets the difference between this kind of secret and other kinds of secrets, so I talk to him about how no matter who asks you to keep a secret, it's ALWAYS ok to tell your own parents, etc, etc, and you would never get in trouble.
So fast forward a couple months and Mom says something about Chick Fil A and how long it's been since he's eaten there, and he just nonchalantly says 'the last time was the secret time with Daddy'.
So busted. I walked right into that, but for the right reasons.
8. Finally, NoFapOnTrack has the bonding story to beat every other.
I pood in a bag while my dad held it.
So I was about 9 or so, and I really really needed the toilet. My brother had been in there for half an hour or so and knew I wanted in cause I banged on the door for ages, but he was a dick. Cue my panicked brain saying, oh no here goes, what happens, where do I go?
By this point my dad was waiting around with me trying to get my brother to hurry up to no avail, it was coming. I ran to the back door, thinking I should poop outside, smart right? Then I realised the neighbours would see me, so I just dropped my pyjamas and started pooping right by the back door inside.
Lightning dad grabs a plastic bag (thankfully one without holes in) holds it under me at arms length, collects the contents, and is off out the front door like a rocket to take his new package to the nearest dog poop bin.
As far as we're both concerned, it didn't happen. We laughed about it a few years later on holiday, and then not long after that we laughed about it with my mum. We're a really close family with terrible senses of humour, and this is just a hilarious moment to us now :D
While these tales are all touching in their own ways, it's clear they all share a single moral: No matter what you and dad promise one another, mom will always find out.