Oh boy, this reminds me of a time I got in BIG, MAJOR trouble with my parents when I was... oh, 10 years old or so.
My vocal music teacher had a son about the same age as my brother. When she found out that my brother took art classes at an art school near our house, she decided to enroll her son in it as well. Now my music teacher lived about 20 minutes away from our house, and the art school was about 20 minutes in the other direction. I don't know how this arrangement was reached, but somehow, my parents (probably my father, who cannot say "no" to anyone), agreed to pick the son up from the art school along with my brother, and the two of them could play together for a few hours until my music teacher could come to our house to pick up her son. I'm guessing my teacher probably had lessons around that time and couldn't pick her son up or something, and my father offered to do her a favor.
This arrangement continued for a few weeks, and everyone seemed to be happy -- my brother got a playmate for a few hours on the weekends and the son was safe and taken care of. Then one day, my mother complained to me, sort of offhandedly, that she found the whole thing really inconvenient. See, my father was perfectly happy doing my music teacher a favor by picking up her son and watching him for a few hours, except he wasn't doing the watching. He would drop the kids home and go back to the office, leaving my mother to supervise four young kids for several hours on a Saturday (my father worked shorter hours during the week and made it up on weekends so he could watch us kids because my mom was in school. Also, my father's picture is in the dictionary next to the entry for "workaholic"). So she couldn't go to the grocery store or run any errands or visit friends or work on her thesis until the kid got picked up.
Being the genius that I was, I though I'd help my mother out. At my next music lesson, I told my teacher that my parents didn't really mind watching her son, but "they didn't like the idea of it". I got severely yelled at the ENTIRE way home by my father for my rudeness. Then we got home, and my mother yelled at me even more.
The upshot of it was that my music teacher asked ANOTHER friend of hers to come to our house right after the art school got out and pick her son up right away. I don't think the kid took any more art lessons after that semester was over.