Your daughter had been quiet all afternoon—too quiet. That alone raised a red flag. When you checked her homework folder, you noticed something odd: every page was blank. Yet, earlier, she had smiled sweetly and said, “All done, Mommy!”

You crossed your arms and called her into the living room.

“Lying about homework?” you asked calmly.

Her eyes widened. “I was gonna do it after dinner—”

“Nope,” you cut her off. “Plank position. Three minutes. Go.”

She groaned dramatically, but you pointed to the floor without a word. With a sigh of surrender, she dropped to her elbows and toes, trembling within thirty seconds.

Just then, he walked through the front door, briefcase in one hand, tie loosened from the commute. His brows lifted at the scene—his daughter planking like her life depended on it, and you calmly sipping tea on the couch.

“What did she do this time?” he asked, setting his things down.

“She said her homework was done.” You raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t.”

He chuckled. “Ah, the classic lie.” He walked over to his daughter, who was now shaking like a leaf.

“You okay down there?”

“Not really,” she grunted.

“How long did you give her?” he asked you.

“Three minutes,” you replied without even looking up from your tea.

He knelt beside her. “That’s nothing.”

“Then help me!” she whimpered, arms wobbling.

With a dramatic sigh, he dropped to the floor next to her and assumed the plank position. “Fine. I’ll suffer with you. For justice.”

She blinked in surprise. “Why are you planking?”

“To show support,” he said with a grin, then added, “And also because when I lied to your grandma about finishing homework, I had to plank for five minutes.”

“FIVE?!” she gasped.

“Yup. And she put a book on my back.”

You snorted. “That part’s true. I was there.”

He was already sweating, but he gave his daughter a determined look. “So trust me. You’re lucky your mom’s gone soft.”