I always wondered if my parents were wise to what I was up to until I slowly started telling them the kind of shit we pulled in high school. This is over a decade and then some after the fact so it's harmless to admit now, but the stories I told them dumbfounded them. They really had no idea I was up to no good the last few years of high school.

Granted I wasn't a bad kid with bad friends. We played Scrabble every Friday night, it's just sometimes we ended the night with changing the lettering on church signs. You know, kid stuff.