Ok, so there are things that just sort of happen as one is driving down the road in a foreign city and the kids are asking to do silly things like roll down the windows in the middle of a crack house infested projects portion of town. You know the kind I am talking about, not the white-toast projects of Denver CO, but the really scary ones where not even Lucifer's mother would go into that neck of the woods for fear of the things that go bump in the bright noon day sun. It is a moments like these that my childrens' internal radar goes off and they want to do silly things like roll down the windows and invite strangers into the car for a family meal. It is at moments like these that I am thankful for my quick thinking and can remember that the car has child proof window locks on the driver's door, a quick punch of the button and problem solved.
But you see the acorn never falls far from the tree so my children are equally smart and immediately start with the questions of why, why, why? If you don't have children try renting Uncle Buck starring John Candy and look for the scene in which Uncle Buck is cornered at a kitchen table by an inquiring mind who wants to know. And you begin to get a sense of what I mean by "rank amateur" as my children are truly unpaid professionals, a la NCAA football but that is a tangent we will avoid for the moment. So back to those moments in the car. Why can't we roll down the window? Why can't we invite strangers to lunch? Why can't we turn on the radio? Why can't we grin and wave at the guys on the corner? Why can't we have it our way? Why . . . and you begin to get the idea of the cacophony from the back seat. My simple response was so sublime that I just have to share it. "Because monkeys have fur!" was my quick response. A brief moment of silence in the back seat and then the question "What does that have to do with it?"
"Why everything," I literally beamed from the front seat. "This morning if monkeys did not have fur you would be able to roll down the window and invite these nice folks into the car for lunch, but because of the time of day--it being morning and all--and the fact that monkeys still have fur, you may not roll down the window and perform a number of other life risking activities. I would love for you to do this, but you see, monkeys have fur and that is why you cannot."
I could not believe it, 15 minute of unbroken silence from the back seat permeated the car as my wife and I tried to navigate our way through Scary Place USA. Little did I know that my son had put my daughter up to the task of watching the clock on the dashboard with a diligence I had never considered possible in a three-almost-four-year-old. Just as the digital read out declared high noon, Isaac strolled out into the middle of that dusty western town and called me out to a duel. Not of pistols, as I am trying to be dramatic and perhaps poetic, but he was indeed going to challenge the supremacy of my new found logic as best and as quickly as he could with the creativity and ingenuity of a nine year old.
"Papa, can we roll down the windows now."
Basking in my new found solution I said "No, you see monkey still have fur and we have already been all through this. No you may not."
With a wail and an accusing finger he pointed at the dashboard clock and declared his independence by stating, "But Papa it is not longer morning, it is now afternoon; monkeys having fur was the reason in the morning, but now we can do it because your fallacious (yes he uses big words properly) argument no longer works. It is now clearly afternoon."
For a panicked moment I realized the little bugger had outfoxed his father, and a quick glance at my wife trying to navigate with three maps delicately balanced on her lap, and a quickly shared ashen expression, I knew we were done for. And then it happened, the most submlime stroke of genius struck again. With new found confidence and a grin on my face I calmly replied, "Unfortunatley Isaac it being afternoon and the fact that giraffes have long necks you may not open the window. If God had ordained giraffes to have short necks then I would gladly and willingly let you open you window, but sadly God made giraffes with long necks and for this particular moment in time you may not open the window . . . for giraffes have long necks."
The murderous glare from the back seat from both my daughter and son made me realize the truth of scripture when it says that not one of us is good, not one of us, we are all born corrupt. If looks could kill--and in my mother's case I think they can but that is another tangent we will avoid for the moment--I would have been struck dead, not by the shadowy figures on the streets at High Noon, but rather by the innocence of two young children in the back seat. An
innocence obviously betrayed by their father with his irrational yet unassailable logic.
Now before you think all is lossed and that The Fates missed this opportunity for irony, we soon found our way out of that neighborhood and made it to our final destination, parked in a lot for 2 hours 49 minutes and 31 seconds. This was the time it took to go to the floating museum, rent and audio tour, take the tour, eat lunch, and return to find all our possessions still safely inside our rented vehicle. Presenting my ticket to the man in the little office I was suddenly robbed the sum of $19. As I fumed and ranted internally at this ridiculous sum of money I slowly uncurled my clenched fist from the waded dollars in my hand and asked with as much indignation as I could muster, "How can you justify such robbery?"
Without missing a beat this nice young man with english accented from an origin somewhere in Northern Africa responded non-plussed "Because fish have scales!" Chagrined more by the victorious shouts from the backseat I mumbled, "Of course, I see your logic is flawless."
So to this day my children enjoy reliving this moment in my life whenever I respond to a silly question with "Because monkeys have fur!" to which the jubilant victory cry with attending pointed and taunting fingers, "And fish have scales!".
Until next time,
John
