Promise Not to Tell?

This morning, as I sat at the kitchen table enjoying a fresh-from-the-oven glazed cinnamon roll and Mom handed me an iced very-berry smoothie, I bemoaned the struggles of living at home.

"It's a hard knock life.", I thought as I lapped up some more frothy beverage.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated. It was 'da twinneh'.

"I had the craziest dream last night.", she text.

Before long, we had exchanged quite the conversation of one-liners, all of which I proceeded to relate to Mom n' Gem: my ever attentive audience.

Thinking nothing of it, I was out the door and on my way to work. Unexpectedly, I received a straggler message.

"Don't tell anyone. I tell you this in twin confidence.", it read.

"Crap.", I paused, debating whether or not I could risk the chances of playing innocent. Years of first-hand experience had taught me otherwise.

But I must preface.

Understand this: once you are a Haymore, you are no longer allowed any secrets. Nada. None. No matter the distance, time of day or confidante. Just forget about it.

Somehow, we share a strange and un-earthly bond wherein, out of sheer idiocy, I relate something to Mom who miraculously transmits it via 'blabber-mouth' to all of my sisters, simultaneously as it were, who then Facebook/text/email it around the world and throughout the galaxy until word of it returns back to me within moments.

I fall for it every time.

"For heavens sakes Mom!" I echo in disbelief, "Is 'Pick a Little, Talk a Little' on a constant loop in your brain?"

Needless to say, as I sat staring at the text and pondering my fate, I decided that the truth must be told.

"Umm..." my fingers quivered, "I may or may not have already let it slip..."

As soon as I dared hit send, I speed dialed home.

"Under threat of death, you are not to relate one ounce of the conversation we had this morning to one single living soul so help you God!", I demanded before realizing I had no idea who had actually picked up.

"Okay...?" Mom questioned, solidifying my fear that such a threat was useless.

"I hate you.", my phone simultaneously dinged. "It's only been like ten minutes and you've already told two people!"

"No worries!" I shot back, "The problem is (semi) solved. They talk, they die."

I waited, anxiously, for what seemed like hours as beads of sweat rolled down my neck. I jolted when the phone finally buzzed. Ever so slowly, I flipped its purple lid open.

"I still hate you.", it said.

"I guess I deserve that.", I admitted audibly.

But good news everyone! My nieces and nephew still love me. Some claim this is due to my endless spoiling/teasing/party throwing. But of course everyone knows it's because I'm just too darn likeable for my own good. They can't help it. It's in my very nature.

However, making them candy leis with dollar bill decorations for their homeschool graduation may have tipped the scale in my favor, just a tad.

But for goodness sakes, keep it quiet.
Because, if word gets out...

I keel you.