Pen

'I found a beautiful pen Mommy,' my youngest son Pete (9) told me on our way to school.
'If you push the button you can change the color of the ink!'
'Is it yellow?' my son Ot (12) interjected.

I could see the wheels of Pete's mind churning, calculating the risks, thinking of what to say. But before he came to a conclusion, Ot continued: 'Because then it's Mine!'
'No, it's not yellow,' Pete lied, I could see it written all over his face.
To ward off the inevitable fight I shouted: 'Look children! The leaves on the trees are finally turning green!'
But Ot repeated stubbornly: 'If it's yellow it's my pen!'

Pete and I both remained silent. Because silence is golden.

And sometimes speaking can get you into trouble. Like when you tell people you found a beautiful pen.