Last Saturday, my little brother decided he was going to become a cybersecurity expert. He is 12 years old. His entire technical background consists of watching YouTube tutorials, playing Minecraft, and once successfully installing a printer driver without crying. I woke up at around 9 AM and walked downstairs to find him sitting at the dining table wearing sunglasses indoors, typing aggressively on his laptop. I asked him what he was doing. He said, “Securing the network.” I looked at him. “What network?” “The Wi-Fi, Daniel.” “Ryan, the Wi-Fi already has a password.” He slowly took off his sunglasses and looked me dead in the eyes. “That’s what you think.” BRO. I went back upstairs because I wasn’t getting involved in whatever villain origin story was happening in my kitchen. About 20 minutes later, my dad started shouting from the living room. “WHO CHANGED THE WIFI PASSWORD?” Ryan appeared at the top of the stairs like he had been summoned by an ancient ritual. “I did.” “WHY?” “For security purposes.” My dad stared at him. “WHAT SECURITY PURPOSES?” “Hackers.” “WHAT HACKERS?” Ryan paused. “Exactly.” I heard my dad mutter something about sending him to live with the grandparents. The problem was that Ryan had actually changed the Wi-Fi password through the router settings. He had also forgotten to tell anybody the new password. Dad asked him for it. Ryan said it was encrypted. Dad told him to stop watching movies. Ryan said he couldn’t reveal classified information. Dad unplugged the router. Ryan immediately started screaming because apparently he’d been hosting a Minecraft server for his friends, and now the server was offline. Suddenly, the cybersecurity expert was experiencing a national emergency. “DAD! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” “I JUST DID.” “MY FRIENDS ARE ONLINE!” “THEN GO OUTSIDE AND FIND SOME FRIENDS!” I was in the kitchen trying so hard not to laugh that I nearly inhaled a piece of toast. Ryan eventually admitted that he had saved the new password somewhere on the family computer. We turned it on. He opened a folder on the desktop called HACKER_STUFF_FINAL_REAL. Inside were 47 screenshots, a picture of a Minecraft creeper, three random text files, and something called passwords.txt. My mum asked him what it was. “Nothing.” My dad clicked it. Ryan lunged across the desk like a goalkeeper trying to save a penalty. Too late. The file contained the Wi-Fi password, a password for an old gaming account, and several notes about accounts belonging to family members. One line literally said: “DAD EMAIL PASSWORD — ASK ME LATER.” My dad slowly turned his head toward Ryan. “WHY DO YOU HAVE MY EMAIL PASSWORD?” Ryan looked genuinely confused. “For backup.” “BACKUP FOR WHAT?” “In case you forget it.” My dad has used the same email account for 14 years. He remembers the password better than he remembers my birthday. Mum took the laptop, told everyone to stop touching things, and started changing the exposed passwords. Ryan stood behind her giving unsolicited cybersecurity advice. “Make sure you use a strong password.” My mum turned around. “RYAN, YOUR PASSWORD IS LITERALLY minecraft123.” He went silent. For the first time in human history, a cybersecurity professional had been defeated by his own mother. But it gets worse. While Mum was fixing everything, Dad decided he could solve the Wi-Fi problem himself. He plugged the router back in. Then he unplugged it. Then he plugged it back in again. Then he held down a button because he thought it was the power button. It was the reset button. The router factory-reset itself. The internet disappeared completely. Not just the Wi-Fi password. EVERYTHING. Dad stood there staring at the blinking lights like he had just launched a spacecraft and lost communication with mission control. Ryan whispered, “You wiped the configuration.” Dad shouted, “I WILL WIPE YOUR PLAYSTATION NEXT.” Ryan immediately left the room. I genuinely thought that was the end of it. I was wrong. At around 2 PM, Ryan’s friends started messaging him on his phone asking why the Minecraft server was down. He told them it had suffered a “major security breach.” A SECURITY BREACH. BRO, THE ONLY THREAT WAS YOU. One of his friends asked if the hackers had stolen the server files. Ryan replied, “We cannot comment on an ongoing investigation.” I saw the messages and started laughing so hard I had to sit down. He then made a Discord announcement saying the server would be undergoing emergency maintenance because of “unusual network activity.” The unusual network activity was Dad pressing the router’s reset button 14 times. At dinner, Ryan tried to explain to everyone that what he did was actually a valuable learning experience. Dad asked him what he’d learned. Ryan said, “That the average household has terrible cybersecurity.” Mum put her fork down. “And what did YOU learn?” He thought about it. “Not to save passwords in text files.” “GOOD.” “And not to let Dad touch the router.” Dad immediately stood up. “EXCUSE ME?” Dinner became a 20-minute argument about who had caused the internet outage. Somehow, Ryan blamed me because I had laughed at him. Apparently, laughing at a cybersecurity incident makes you an accomplice. By 8 PM, the internet was finally working again. Mum had changed the passwords, Dad had written the new Wi-Fi password on a piece of paper, and Ryan had lost computer privileges for the weekend. He spent the rest of the evening sitting on the sofa looking out the window like a retired hacker who had been betrayed by the government. Then, at approximately 9:30 PM, he announced that he had a new project. Dad didn’t even look up from the television. “What project?” Ryan said, “I’m going to build my own operating system.” Dad turned off the television. “No.” Ryan looked offended. “WHY?” “BECAUSE I WANT TO KEEP MY INTERNET.” I went upstairs before I could get grounded for laughing. The next morning, I walked past Ryan’s room and heard him whispering to his laptop. “Phase two begins today.” I don’t know what Phase Two is. I don’t want to know what Phase Two is. All I know is that if the lights start blinking in the kitchen, I’m moving out. EDIT: Ryan has just informed me that he is no longer a cybersecurity expert. He is now a systems engineer. Apparently, the Wi-Fi incident was a “minor setback.” Please keep my family in your thoughts. submitted by /u/Chocolate_cerealpuff [link] [comments]
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