I got home from running errands today. Mom heard me pull up and met me in the driveway. "I did a bad thing", she said.
"I made a cake for Roger (man across the street, whose wife died two days ago) and I cut it and ate a piece instead of giving it to him". Then she told me she had cut it in half and slipped it in my kitchen while I was gone.
And I ate some too....now I'm an accomplice.