My younger sisters and I would sit around the table with mom for lunch. I was probably seven or eight at the time. We would sneack our chips into our sandwhiches because we liked the crunch they made. We always avoided the crusts, nibbling as close to them as we could get. There was no good reason, we just did. We would cover all of our fingers in Bugles and eat them one by one, biting off one tiny bit off the tip at a time.
One day we decided to, between bites, knock on the underside of the table. We thought it sounded like someone at the door, and we liked to trick mom. She would always say, "Oh! Someone's at the door," and get up and walk through the house to the front door, and come back. She would shrug and say, "Hmm, they must have gone away." And we would try to shrug our shoulders innocently and continue eating. And a few minutes later one of us would knock on the underside of the table again, and the rest of us would snicker as mom got up and checked the door again.
Confession? I only found out a month or two ago that she had known all along that it was us. Gotta love moms that play along!