“I’m a penetration tester,” Dad announces triumphantly. As usual, he was looking for an excuse to say this. “It’s not as dirty as it sounds.”
Resigned to letting this play out, I take a bite of my breakfast. It’s delicious, though it’s hard for me to decide which I like more: lychee jelly, mango jam, or date syrup.
“He penetrates computer systems,” Mom says conspiratorially. “That is, when he’s not penetrating me.”
That, verbatim, is why my sisters and I have never had a friend from school visit our home more than once. Well, except for Fabio.
Interestingly, Art doesn’t cringe or ask for a divorce. Then again, for all he knows, all parents talk this way.
“Speaking of jobs,” Dad says. “Art, can you tell us what Thing 4 does for a living? She’s been keeping it hush-hush.”
Oh, no. I’m n
