All I Want for Father's Day Is a Defense Team

"We've voted to audit you, Daddy," my daughter announced one recent Saturday morning over breakfast.

"Really?" I answered absently.

"You've overstated your earnings three quarters in a row," said Caroline, a fourth-grader and regular CNBC viewer.

"In looking at recent expenditures, we've noticed some disturbing irregularities," added my son, Michael, a seventh-grader who prefers to scour the stock market tables in the newspaper. "To wit, those cases of Lafitte Rothschild 1952 in the garage -- financed, apparently, by our 529 accounts."

"The upshot is, you're cutting corners, Daddy," Caroline said. "Shareholder confidence is dropping fast. Your corporate reputation is running on fumes."

"Yeah," Michael said, "We're really concerned about the outlook for Q2."

"Okay, kids," I said. "Look, I may have committed a few indiscretions here and there. Maybe I invested a bit too much capital in extending the backyard deck into the next county. But . . . "

"Actually, Daddy," Caroline said prosecutorially, "the abuses appear to be systemic."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I asked, now dimly aware that my authority as the family chairman and chief executive officer was under attack.

"Yes. We suspect you're cooking the books, Daddy," Caroline said. "And it's our job as senior management, before worse comes to worst, to blow the whistle."

"Just remember, Dad," Michael added. "In life, you have addition and subtraction. All the rest is just conversation."

"Listen, I'm no accountant," I said. "You should go talk to Mom."