It usually starts with casual conversation around the dinner
table at a holiday, birthday or Sunday night dinner. Our four kids, their spouses, significant
others and friends bring each other up to date on what’s happening in their lives
while the grand kids are gathered around a TV to watch Funniest Home Video’s or
something.
Wine usually oils the group up so that what is already
lively conversation teeters on the edge of uncharted waters. At least for me they are uncharted.
Then one of my kids will say something like “Do you remember
that night……………………..” Of course everyone
there remembers it but me. That’s
because what happened that night was a more closely guarded secret than the
D-Day Invasion. Through mass collusion,
swearing on Bibles, etc., it was deemed at the time “We don’t tell Dad under
penalty of death.”
I then learn what did happen that night. As the details unfold I think to myself “Not
my kids, it can’t be.” Each one chimes
in with their memories of that night, including the wife. SHE
WAS IN ON IT! Is the bond between
man and wife so thin as to be pierced by protecting disobedient children? All the details come forth, mellowed slightly
by the intervening years.
Then someone else would come forth with their teen year’s
horror story. As each takes their turn, the
amount of detail disclosed increases. Somehow, events that should have led to a
year’s solitary confinement are now hilarious.
As the years have gone by I believe I have finally heard
most of the stories. I have learned that
at various times we have had “friends” of our kids living in our garage. That none of their visitors to our home used
our beautiful entry way, they simply climbed through a back window into their
rooms. They drove cars of ours great
distances waaaaaaaaaaaaay before they were of legal driving age. One of them “borrowed” the family boat to
take some friends to Catalina Island.
He/she (it doesn’t matter now) could barely see over the bow.
Probably the most shocking discovery of all was, due to the
aforementioned back window, I never laid eyes on their cohorts. I thought at the time it was rather strange
that their friends never came to the door to shake my hand and say hello. But, being the trusting father I am I felt
all was well. Hardly. There is a good reason they went to great lengths
to keep me from seeing them. Let’s just say I would not have approved of
them had I known. They would have
finished their schooling in Siberia.
I laugh along with them now when I hear these stories. I have always felt parenting is one part
eternal vigilance and one part luck. We
were dealt a huge dose of luck. I am
thankful they are willing to share them with me now. 
