The other night my son came to me with a mischievous grin on his face, and a story on his lips. “I have to tell you something.” We were sitting in the hot tub, an almost nightly ritual for our family where we talk about our days and have those special sharing moments. So I told him to wait for his father to join us. He said, “I’d rather wait to tell him. I want to tell you first, because you’re more rebellious than he is.”

I wasn’t sure how to react to this.

Arlis joined us soon enough, and he was not disappointed!

Marcus got ahold of the password for the teachers’ network/wi-fi, not the students’. He uses this network because he says it’s faster, etc. OK, not a problem.

It was the end of history class, and they were allowed to goof off until the next class started. He started watching YouTube – Pina Colada. Then he pressed “cast”. Then he turned the volume all the way up. He later heard the story of what happened in the classroom full of victims because some of his friends were in there. In the Culinary Arts classroom (a whole other story on its own), the TV turned on and started blaring “Pina Colada”. There was a mad scramble for the remote. They turned the TV off. Marcus turned it back on. Off. On. Mute. Volume max. Turn down. Turn up.

He stopped the casting, presumably when class was over. He repeated this with a different song a day later, on a different TV.

Then he watched “Power of Love” by Huey Lewis. And he found a new TV, one he hadn’t seen before. He pressed “cast”. For whatever reason, he was able to roam the halls this time. I assume it was lunch time. So he walks around, trying to find which TV he’s just invaded.

The same battle ensues. Off/On. Up/Down. He hears the song’s lyrics bouncing in volume from down the hall. He follows it. It came from the office. Oops.

He about faces and disconnects. Now, Arlis is not angry, he’s laughing. I’m loving it. But Arlis mentioned something I hadn’t realized, “You know your YouTube username shows up when you do that.”

Without missing a beat, Marcus said, “I know. I used a fake account.” Bam!

And that, folks, is my proudest moment as a parent.