:-P
When I was about 12 or 13, I discovered Playboy magazine.
Mysteriously, they started to show up then in the group of guys I hung out with.
One day, I brought one home, tucked into my jeans and behind my shirt. Walking into the house and down the hall (trying not to draw attention as I walked stiff as a board so as not to wrinkle the merchandise). Being a budding covert operator myself, I hid it in a safe place that no one would find. Under my bed.
Now my mom was obviously battle hardened. She knew all the tricks. She also did Spring Cleaning almost every week (would be called "illegal search and seizure" by the ACLU today).
I came home from school a few days later, and there was the magazine. On (not under) my bed.
And she never said a thing!
So thank you Mom for making me sweat bullets. One of life's great lessons in domestic terrorism and child rearing.