The eyes are the window to your face

My son has a reputation for being a Good, Honest and Kind boy. If he were in an Uncle Wiggly story, he would be known as The Boy Who Always Made His Mother Cookies When She Was On The Rag, or, The Boy Who Meticulously Mowed The Lawn For A Very Long Time When His Mother Was In Her Bedroom Entertaining...well, you get the picture.

He is, however, my son.

He called my friend KJ on Monday, whom I had just told I was expecting.

"Hey, kid! Wow, what's up?"
"Not much KJ, but I'm a little concerned about something."
"Ok, what's going on?"
"Well, mom keeps on talking on the phone for a long time to EVERYBODY."
"Ok, what's wrong with that?"
"She hates the phone. And whenever someone is over, she sends me out of the room to talk to them. What's going on?"
"Hey, kid, you're not going to get anything out of me."
"And, the last time my dad was over, he left smiling, but at the same time he seemed a little weird."
"Well..."
"Come on, I'll bake you cookies, bread, whatever you want, I have some killer recipes."
"NO! Talk to your mom. You're not getting anything out of me!"

This went on for a while, with the son offering bribes and proof that something was afoot, and KJ trying to reassure him without giving any information.

The wicked part is that we had told my son the week before.