From destroying their mother's favorite painted plate, to destroying their front yard and covering it up with pine cones and leaves, siblings share secrets that they kept away from their parents.
[Source can be found at the end of the article]
The belly flop from the roof incident.
We had a huge Chicago snowstorm once that ended up getting us the day off school. My mom still had to go to work but she trusted me to watch over my two little brothers for the day. At the time I was 13 and my brothers were 9 and 5.
As soon as she left we decided to go outside to play. My youngest brother and I convinced our middle brother to jump off the roof of our house into a big pile of snow in nothing but his boxers. He climbed up to the roof and started to freak out. We convinced him everything would be fine and with a surprising lack of arm-twisting, he belly-flopped off the roof. He hit the deep pile of snow and started screaming before we could even laugh.
He stood up and his knee looked like raw chicken. There were bloody chunks of meat hanging out of the wound and he was in excruciating pain. The crying wouldn’t stop and I knew I was going to be in trouble. We knew mom was going to kill us when she came home so we came up with a plot. He would just need to suck it up for 8 hours and we’d be in the clear.
As soon as my mom came home that evening my brother limped to the garage and said he was going to ride his bike to his friend’s house. He made it to the end of the driveway, fell over, and started screaming and holding his knee. My mom rushed outside, saw the injury, and took him to the hospital.
15 years later and she still has no idea about the belly flop from the roof.
Covering up tracks of fire.
My brother and I had a fire get out of control and completely burned the entire backyard and started catching the hedge along the house on fire. We got it all put out then used a bed sheet to rake up several loads of leaves from back in the woods to create a new “carpet” of leaves over the yard. We still haven’t told them and that was more than 20 years ago.
A minor incident, and a police report.
I was only about 9-10. When my older brother would get home from high school he would constantly ring the door-bell for me to open the door. He has his own keys but he just kept ringing. It annoyed me almost every day.
One day I start yelling out to open it himself.
He kicks the window by the door, it shatters and a tiny shard cuts my foot. No big deal, just a band-aid fix.
We call mum and dad saying someone threw a rock, and my brother even found a rock outside as evidence. Mum and dad call the police later when they get home, police arrive, there’s a full report done.
And my brother and I have never mentioned the story again.
I’m glad that it wasn’t some serious detective stuff, where he asked how I injured my foot.
Ruined sentimental artwork.
My mom and her new husband took a belated honeymoon trip to New Orleans, which was where he used to live in his early adult life. While there, they ran into one of his old friends who had begun selling artwork as a street vendor. My mom secretly bought a beautiful, one-of-a-kind drawing from the vendor as a Christmas gift for her husband. I suggested I build a frame and mount it while my less crafty brother paid for materials. She agreed to this great, thoughtful family gift and gave me the drawing to work on the frame.
The house I was living in was very small, so I had just enough space in my room for a desk and craft station in my room when the door was closed. As I was working on it, my roommate slammed open my door and knocked over an ink bottle from an unrelated project and completely ruined the artwork. After talking about what to do, my brother and I decided to use clues from my mom’s trip photos to find the vendor and eventually found him on Facebook. We messaged him, bought another very similar drawing, had it overnighted to me, and I finished up the frame on schedule. Mom never found out and it’s now prominently displayed on the wall immediately inside their front door.
A win-win situation.
My brother’s truck wasn’t technically broken in to. He accidentally locked his keys in the truck while shopping at goodwill for a tie for his interview he was on his way to. So he immediately called the insurance company telling them his car was broken into and was asking if it was covered. They said yes, so he takes the tire iron out of the bed of his truck and smashed his own window in to get his keys. Insurance fixed the window AND he got the job.
They had to know at some point.
That my little sister didn’t break her arm by accidentally falling off the bunk bed, but rather that she broke her arm when we flung her off of it during a game of King of the Hill (bunkbed).
My parents were out at an aerobics class, in a very pre-cell phone age. We just tried to keep her comfortable and waited patiently for them to get home.
We did finally tell them last year, and they thought it was hilarious. We kept that secret for close to 30 years.
Grandfather saved the day!
I was camping with my dad, an uncle, grandfather and my little brother.
The creepiest guy I’d ever seen was using a preteen girl to try and lure my little brother into their camper next to us. I told him not to go but she was pulling him along and he was far too trusting of strangers. I told my grandfather, who was cleaning a rifle at the picnic table, I didn’t feel right about the man or the girl. Apparently, he recognized the guy from his past. He went over with his rifle and spoke to the man who seemed like he’d seen a ghost after a few words were exchanged. My grandfather brought my little brother back over and told us to go play. So, we went and played on.
The weirdo camping next to us was gone shortly after lunch, camper and all. I was 11 or 12 at the time so I doubt my little brother even realizes what he might’ve avoided. I don’t think I was well aware of it at the time either. My grandfather told us to keep quiet about it and that was it. He never told me the guy’s name or anything when I asked about it a decade or so later, just that he was in the military with him and not to worry about it. He’s dead now so I can’t ask any follow-up questions.
This parents’ no tattoo policy.
I’m one of three kids and my sister (with help from me) has managed to hide two tattoos (one above her ankle and one under her armpit). My parents HATE tattoos and I mean HATE. So much so, that there is a clause in my parent’s will which states that for each tattoo on their child’s body, 10% of that tattooed child’s inheritance is to be taken away and then split to go to the other un-tattooed children’s inheritances.
Destroyed the front yard by accident.
I drove my brother and sister to school when I was in High School back in the mid-80’s. One morning, it had been raining all night and all morning. My sister asked me to pull my car across the yard and up to the front door so she wouldn’t get wet. We had a huge yard, over an acre. I got stuck in the land barge I was driving, a 1972 Monte Carlo, cutting two deep trenches 100 feet long across the yard to the front door. Destroyed the yard. My Dad would get so pissed if we ever drove on the grass, so I had to fix it. Fast. When we got home from school in the afternoon, my brother and I collected pine cones and pine needles from all over the yard and covered up the evidence. It was so obvious but my Dad stayed drunk and didn’t immediately notice. The next spring, he saw the trench and thought he did it. He died a few years back, not sure we ever told him. I told my Mom a few years ago, and she laughed.
The broken painted plate.
My mom collects these painted plates and hangs them up around the house. There is one plate with this creepy old man and lady on it that for some reason my mom really loved but my brothers, sister, and hated. She knew how much we disliked it. Well, one-day mom came home to see her beloved plate on the floor in pieces. She sent each of us to our rooms and interrogated us individually. Each one of us gave the exact same answer “I don’t know, it was like that when we got home from school, it must have fallen on its own.” She was pissed off and we had our TV privileges taken away for a couple of days because we were obviously all lying, but we never had to see that dish again.
Now we all know exactly how that plate came to be destroyed, and every now and then my mom will still ask, but the answer is always the same “I don’t know, it was like that when we got home from school, it must have fallen on its own.” It’s been 15 years and it will be a secret we take to our graves.
Just pretend it’s fruit punch.
I didn’t split my head open while falling backward on my scooter. My “best friend” at the time threw a big rock at my head, and I didn’t want him to get in trouble, even though he didn’t even apologize or feel bad about it. I also didn’t want people to freak out before my parents got me because my plain white shirt was literally soaked in blood. I just grabbed an empty fruit punch Gatorade out of the trash and said I spilled all over myself.
I was never allowed to do anything onwards without a helmet outside.
It could’ve ended far worse.
When I was 14 and my brothers (twins) were 11, we played a game called “catapult,” where one of us laid on a bed, and the other two grabbed their legs and ripped him off the bed as fast as possible. They would usually go about 7 or 8 feet off the bed and slide on the hardwood floor after they landed. We never thought of putting anything for protection on the ground, so an injury was bound to happen.
We decide to do it to the smaller twin (75lbs) and we yank him off the bed as hard as we can, and he goes further than we’ve ever seen. However, he did a sort of backflip when we yanked him, so he landed on his neck. We went over to check on him and pulled him up off the ground. His neck was bent forward really far and he couldn’t move it at all. He also has a huge burn on his back from sliding so far. In a panic, we called my grandpa, who lived down the street, to come and check in on him. He comes over and doesn’t know what to do other than just ice it and let it be, so we took his advice. When my mom came home, he was walking around the house facing the floor and couldn’t make eye contact. She just thought he was being weird for the 2 days he couldn’t move his neck, so she never asked us about it. My grandpa has never told my mom about it and none of us have either.
Sneaking out the boat for a joy ride.
My parents would NEVER let me take the boat out at night. So one night around 730pm, I went out on a lake with my brother and our friends. I tied the boat to a tree on the beach and passed out on the sand. Two people were sleeping on the boat with about ten on the beach sand. At about 3 am I hear yelling and wake up. The moon is out so I can see a little. Approximately 200 yards offshore I see the boat floating around out there, and to top it off, the battery is dead, it won’t start. There wasn’t a whole lot I could do so I told them to turn on the boat lights so they didn’t get hit and wait until morning. About 7 am we left and got a friends boat. We came and towed my boat back to dock. My parents never found out. If they did, I would have been banned for the rest of the summer.
Retrieving the new contact lenses.
When I was 14-years-old, I got woken up by my 12-year-old brother, who had just got contact lenses for the first time.
He was freaking out because he can’t find his solution or his glasses. He then realized he left them at his friend’s house after football practice. No biggie right? Wrong. My dad was going through some emotional and financial issues, we were kind of poor, and since these contacts were new, my brother knew he’d get in big trouble if he’s lost them in any way.
So we stole the car and drove across town at 1 am. I snuck into my parents’ bedroom ninja style to get the keys. I had to put the car in neutral and roll it down the block before we started it. Same thing in reverse when we got home.
I don’t talk to my dad now (I’m 38 and he’s toxic) and we still haven’t said a thing to my mom.
A brilliant plan so everyone can have fun!
I live a few states away from my immediate family. My 18-year-old brother and his girlfriend were coming up on their 1-year anniversary, and they wanted to get away for the weekend. Because he still lived with our dad and overprotective mom (my stepmom) who thinks boys and girls shouldn’t be unsupervised, we hatched a plan.
What parents think: My brother and I spent a weekend hunting/camping in the mountains.
What really happened: I drove 15 hours to pick him up, drove 20 minutes to pick up his girlfriend, then drove to the Outer Banks. Since we had camping gear, I stopped at a campground on Ocracoke island, unloaded everything but their stuff, tossed my brother the keys, and said “Have fun! Don’t do anything too stupid, and be back here by 3 pm Sunday.”
I spent the weekend drinking, fishing, and enjoying the more secluded parts of the beach. I’ve no idea what they did except get sand all over my car’s interior. They picked me up on time, we drove back with smiles on all our faces. It’s been 6 years, and no one’s said anything about it.
The story behind going to the cinema.
That one night when we were all teenagers we didn’t actually go and see The Specialist at the cinema with some friends.
Instead, we all (six of us) managed to get someone to buy us alcohol from the corner shop. We then started drinking over at the local playing fields and later ended up under the canal bridge by the cinema, still drinking.
This is where my sister told everyone what happened in the film (she’d already seen it) just in case our parents asked us later.
The unfortunate point was when an ex of mine, who was also there drinking, threw a brick at my face and it hit me on the bridge of my nose. I went into the cinema with blood streaming down my face and cleaned myself up in their bathroom (they were shocked but very helpful).
We came up with the story that I’d tripped on the concrete stairs that led up to the cinema entrance so we all had the same story.
Fireworks through the house.
This happened around 8 or 9 years ago. My brother and I were messing around with fireworks in our front garden in the weeks before Halloween.
While running away from a large lit rocket my brother’s foot must have clipped it causing it to fall over and duly fly past me through our house’s front door. The rocket exploded outside my sister’s room leaving behind a trail of thick smoke and scorch marks on our lovely wooden floor.
We managed to get rid of most of the smell (shout out to Lynx Africa) and marks, except for a palm-sized scorch mark in the corner where the rocket exploded, which we decided to cover with my mother’s vase.
We moved out a few years ago, but the vase is still where we left it, 9 years later.
No specifications on what to eat when hungry.
My mom left us with my dad on a Sunday morning while she went grocery shopping, and my dad was trying to cook this native chicken in this huge pot. Chicken Stew just happened to be my favorite (this is important later) and native chicken is much sweeter so I was ecstatic. I was 11 and my sister was 13. We were playing in the living room when my dad hurriedly left and said he’ll be back right away and told us to eat when we’re hungry. Since he said ‘to eat when we’re hungry,’ I being the little kid who loves native chicken stew, immediately ran to the kitchen to get myself some.
When I placed some in the bowl, the chicken still looked pink-ish and it was still a tiny bit hard to bite into. I asked my sister if I could eat it and she said, “Yeah… I guess.” The broth was smelling good so we both still insisted on sipping the broth and just ate a few bites of the hard chicken.
During dinnertime with the family, my dad said, “What did you guys eat for lunch? Did you eat the leftovers from last night?”
My mom said, “You didn’t feed them the stew?”
“No. I had to run because I had to buy a new gas tank. Only just boiled it for an hour.”
My sister and I exchanged aghast faces over our plates and assumed we would die of food poisoning. After a week of waiting for our death, it didn’t arrive. I’m 21 and we still haven’t mentioned it.