Not Under My Roof

I've resigned myself to the fact that I'll never be that cool dad.

Although I received considerable latitude as a teenager, I don't know if I'd be able to provide similar treatment - if I ever had kids. You'd probably think that I had the most horrible draconian monsters as parents when in reality, it was just the opposite! Strict though they were in certain matters ( our grades for one ), my surprisingly liberal New Age-y parents actually allowed my brother and I quite a shocking degree of license.

Honestly, I never even had a curfew. Like never ever. Well, not theoretically speaking since my parents never spelled it out formally in any verbal agreement. No doubt they knew that deep inside we'd feel horrible guilt pangs all over knowing that they'd predictably stay up late with the porch light on waiting for our return.

So how could we possibly party away all night knowing?

As the Catholics would know, guilt always works. I never said my parents were dumb.


OBEY ME!
I'm your king dictator potentate father!
But somehow, I always imagined that I'd keep a tighter rein. Yes, the ultimate control bitch. Somehow relying solely on their judgement seems a bit risky. No doubt after watching so many unfortunate tweenagers stumble and fall on their way to adulthood ( dozens of tragic casualties to be found in the inner city hospitals ), I find myself far more wary about the dangers. Far too many slipping into coke-dependent, sexually-promiscuous slacker mode without the proper guidance.

Hopefully by then of course I'll have a more reasonable, sensible partner to balance out my crazed Machiavellian tough-love parenting policies.

Paul : Where are you going at this hour of the night, Calvin? Getting pretty late.
Calvin : Umm... I am going to buy some groceries?
Paul : After midnight? Some fire-sale?
Calvin : Yes, I really need to get some... plaster. For my aching back.
Paul : Interesting. I thought I already had some in the medicine cabinet. Surely you mean you're going out to bail our son from the drunken orgy I expressly forbade him to go? The one which already broke our curfew set at 2?
Calvin : Ummm... seems like the police raided the club he was at.
Paul : Yes, someone tipped them off. Seemed there was a rumour that someone was ingesting K.
Calvin : OMG. You called the police?
Paul : Did I say anything wildly incriminating like that? Well it would be easy enough to track Nate with the GPS I planted on his coat.


You had your son imprisoned in the Tower? Are you crazy?
Heinous. I know. What a monstrous parent I'd be. Papa jahat. Obviously my poor son - this yet unborn Nate - would be living under the merciless boot-heel of paternal tyranny. Complete with an entire detailed constitution of laws and statutes ( and by-laws! ) governing his actions.

Then again, it's my son. So don't worry about Nate. If he was any son of mine, he'd be smart enough to know how to bend, twist and manipulate the rules to an inch without actually breaking them - probably already scheming a planned escape route out of the house ( with places of hiding in every nook and cranny ) while cooking up a thousand plausible ruses to use on gullible daddy Calvin who won't know any better.

So obviously I have to be doubly quick.