Forgery

Yikes, I look like Ralph Wiggum in this picture. Age 6-ish.

When I was in first grade, I got busted for some lunchroom mischief. The kid across from me dared me to eat a dollop of chunky peanut butter. It was smeared on the table, a little mess left behind by someone in the previous lunch period. The brownish nutty blob did not look appetizing. But the kid implied that I was afraid to eat it, and that was bogus.

So I looked him in the eyes. I can still see his taunting grin and excessive red freckles. I flicked my finger into that little spill of peanut butter and aero-planed it into my mouth. No hesitation. I earned that kid’s respect for two seconds. Then I heard a scolding teacher.

“Nicholas, no! Gross. That is yucky.”

I knew I hadn’t made my finest dietary choice, but I was stunned when the teacher got a pencil and paper to scrawl a disciplinary note for my parents to sign. No computer or printer was needed, as this happened in 1990.

The kid across the lunch table finished his tater tots in quiet triumph. He never thanked me for not telling the teacher that he’s the one who dared me. You know what? Some people have no integrity. And it starts at a young age.

At home in the basement, ignoring cartoons and burning with the unfairness of it all, I hatched a plan. With great cunning, I was going to give the illusion that my parents had signed the note. In crude penmanship, without even knowing how to do it in cursive, here’s how I forged their names:

“Bill + Ruth.”

Done and done. Not quite a masterstroke, but close to it. Mom and dad didn’t have to know about a minor lapse of judgment for which I didn’t need to be punished. No need for parenting on a non-issue, right?

The next morning, I handed the paper to my teacher. My heart sank as I saw signs of doubt on her gaunt face. She squinted back and forth at the paper and me, sighed and shook her head.

Later that day she called my parents and told them of my crime and coverup. I got busted twice. The anger and disappointment of the adults had been doubled.

Looking back, it taught me a valuable lesson:

Get better at forgery.