I’ve always believed in teaching my kids the basics: say please and thank you, share your toys, and—most importantly—no one likes a snitch. Some lessons stick better than others.
So when my son Jay walked into adult dinner, very serious, very determined, I barely looked up. The kids were off playing, and we were finally enjoying five uninterrupted bites of food. Bliss.
“Mom, I need to tell you something.”
I hit him with the standard: Go play. Figure it out. No one likes a snitch. He hesitated, clearly torn, then turned right back around. Parenting win. Until…
A few seconds later, his cousin sprinted into the room, full panic.
“Ben is trying to call 911 because he thinks it’s funny.”
…Oh.
I shot up so fast I nearly knocked over my chair, ran into the other room, and sure enough—one kid aggressively mashing the emergency call button, the other in a full-body block to stop him.
Crisis got handled. No sirens. No frantic dispatchers. No emergency responders at the door. I turned back to dinner, feeling very accomplished.
That’s when Jay—calm, collected, unimpressed—looked me dead in the eye and said:
“Mom. That was really dangerous.”
Oh. Oh no.
Turns out, I was the one getting the scolding. Turns out, sometimes snitching is the right move.
Going to dedicate this one to Poppy Don't Preach with an honorable mention to Blushin' Impossible because #parentingfail.
