Honest in Christa's House
When I was little, my brother and I liked to joke around a lot. We liked to yank each other's chain and try to pull a fast one over on one another.
I'm not exactly sure when it started, but my parents decided that we had to have some sort of "code"; some way of bringing the joking and fooling around to an end when it had gone a bit too far. So, when we wanted to find out, for real, if the other person was telling the truth or pulling our leg, we'd ask, "Honest in our house?"
Oddly enough it worked.
For some strange reason, we always told the truth, came clean, never abused it. We had an unspoken rule in my family that when someone asked, "Honest in our House?", we meant business. It was always used playfully, but it was the code that helped us trust each other.
Years later, I still use it. Even my cousins and friends know about it. They know that if I'm telling a tale that seems too tall to believe, all they have to ask is, "Honest in your house?" I either stop the joking around or shock them by telling them, "Yes, honest in my house!" They know it's no joke.
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No joke. (Honest in my house!)