Note: To set the stage for the following essay appropriately, the reader must only appreciate the fact that when you are in the general neighborhood of 50 and have children in the general neighborhood of 10, interesting dynamics are bound to occur.
“It is to laugh.” This well-loved quote, despite being beautifully French in origin, is perhaps more notably attributed to Daffy Duck, at least in my family. This phrase weaves its way throughout family dialogue and is the most frequently used Facebook comment in our little “Family Group”. Therefore, it should be of no surprise this was the last comment that ran through my head as the general anesthesia enveloped my conscious synaptic activity in preparation for my inaugural colonoscopy.
Just a short 30 minutes earlier, the sugar coated nurse started sounding like Charlie Brown’s mother (mwah, mwah, mwah). However, a few key bullet points animated themselves for my benefit on the “voluntary” acknowledgment form like speech bubbles flying in first from the left, then from the right, and shimmering in front of my eyes: “For the next 24 hours do NOT: 1) Operate heavy machinery or motor vehicles 2) Consume any alcoholic beverages 3) Enter into any legally binding contracts.” While the second mandate was discouraging, it was the last one that mentally evoked that infamous Daffy phrase for me. Clearly, the legal advisors who drew up this document knew nothing about what happens at my house from the moment an adult walks in the door to the moment when every off-handed offer quickly turns into a critical path contract negotiation point. I mean, seriously, did they have any clue that my 10-year-old daughter dressed up as Sandra Day O’Connor for Halloween BY CHOICE? (No, I am not kidding.)
Perhaps it is because I was raised in a military family where child participant negotiations were banned that I, in the rearing of my own children, have swung the pendulum to the opposite vector. Not only is nearly everything a negotiation in our house, any negotiation that ends up favoring video time, getting out of chores, practicing music, or hanging out with friends more than normal indubitably becomes a never forgotten, legally binding contract. Just ask our in-house Justice O’Connor. She has a mind like a legal filing cabinet. Now, she still has a hard time with some of her 5th grade math facts, but perceived agreements and contracts are like well organized folders complete with dates, times, various quotes, and immediate access capabilities.
“Hi Mom, how are you feeling? I know you had a long afternoon at the hospital.” Pause.
“ Are you awake?” Pause.
“Well, I just wanted to remind you that you said it was okay for me to play Mochi Monsters today because last week I practiced my violin three times, did my Xtra Math homework, and helped you with the laundry. We agreed that if I helped out more around the house that I could get more privileges for things I wanted to do. So I decided to use that privilege now. I know I’m doing it before my homework, but it just seems like I did way more than normal last week, so I think this is fair. Okay, Mom?” Pause.
“Well I hope you can hear me and understand this agreement even if you’re not awake.” MICRO-pause followed by the bullet train speed closer and an equally speedy dash out the door, “Okay, bye Mom, I’ll be downstairs at the computer. I promise I won’t fight with my brother because I know that was part of our agreement too. Love you.”
So, in a home where mere suggestions instantly translate into the kid version of mental Legal Zoom documents, I realized as I slipped out of consciousness that on this day, when I was not to enter any legally binding contracts, I got a ‘get out of jail free’ card relative to all the parent/child contracts into which I could possibly be entered particularly those that started with “But you said …”. I just had to show my 10-year-old Supreme Court Justice the surgical center paperwork. Indeed, I had actually discovered a whole new meaning to family law. Who would have guessed that having a colonoscopy could be so enlightening? I’m counting down the days until my next one … to which I believe Daffy in his beak smacking, lip flapping, spit spewing manner would reply, “Yeth, it ith INDEED to laff.”
