Do what you need to.

"Babysitting is what we told our mom whenever we were doing something that we knew she wouldn't approve of. Babysitting was code for going to the nightclubs where we dressed outrageously and danced all night. Babysitting was code for smoking pot and drinking Mickey's Big Mouth beer with the neighborhood kids. On this particular night, babysitting was code for a rock concert. The lie fell easily off my tongue as we pulled open the door and the murky San Fernando Valley air hit our faces, sweet with the scent of juniper and the promise of freedom. I was fifteen years old, and it felt like lying had become almost second nature recently. That sickly feeling I used to get with every half-truth or outright lie was now so mild, it was almost unnoticeable. Anyway, tonight I had bigger things on my mind than the white lies I told my mother to keep her blissfully unaware. Tonight was a special night: it had been marked in my calendar for months. Tonight was my first-ever David Bowie concert, and nothing on this earth was going to stop me from getting there."