“Look, boys, someone called the cops on your parents!” I hollered as soon as we walked in the door, flashing the picture on my phone at anyone who cared to look.

Mike heaved one of his big sighs. He should have seen this coming. On the way home, he’d lobbied against telling the boys about the cops, an idea with which I was not fully on board. I’d been looking forward to earning a little cred. Mike worried about getting into a sort of one-upmanship thing with the kids.

But then I was scrolling through Facebook on my phone as we walked in the house. Up pops a selfie of our hostess with the cops who crashed her backyard party. What was I supposed to do, besides gloat confess?