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I Promised I Wouldn't Tell, But...

When my husband and I merged families we ended up with two boys the same age.  I'll call them Phinias and Ferb.  I promised Ferb I would never post this story, but my deadline is looming and he pulled the toilet out of the bathroom and left it in the basement, so I figure we'll be even after this.

Back when the boys were teenagers, I came across a six-pack of condoms laying on the ironing board in the extra bedroom.  Furious, I marched into Phinias' room and demanded to know where they came from.

"They're not mine," he said.

I questioned him again.  "Are you sure these aren't yours?'

"They're not even the brand I use."

WHAT? THE? "Not the brand you use?  I'm coming back for you later, buddy."

On to Ferb's room.  "Are these yours?"  I waved the condoms in his face.

"Uhhh...no?"

"You may as well tell me now, because I'm not going to leave until I get an answer."

I got the answer all right.  It seems our little entrepreneur was renting out the spare room -- complete with bunk beds -- to his friends to have sex in.

"Ewww!"  I dropped the condoms in the trash.

"New rule," I screamed.

(New Rules were instated a lot during their teenage years - like, No Dogs on the Dining Room Table! or, No Syphoning Gas Out of My Car!)

"No one," I shouted, "and I mean NO ONE is allowed to have sex in this house except your Dad and I."

I was pleased to hear Phinias and Ferb yell, "Ewww!"

We all suffered from nightmares after that.

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