Punishments Imposed on the Already-Reformed

A father is such an odd accessory to family "society".  He sits in a cubicle for many hours of the day, manipulating, cajoling, begging software to do what it's supposed to, and he spends nearly a couple of hours in a Toyota Corolla on a sequence of highways, all while la famiglia is chugging forward on its own momentum in the next state over, and when he gets home, he has a series of directives and imperatives, to be enforced without the full historical memory and drive that informed the "to do" list.  Of course, only one person in the house really has a problem with this "disconnect," and when he-or-she is off at the monthly meeting of The Holistic Moms' Network [sic], some small people are happy with the new, very "green" regime that takes over for the evening program.

My friends have perspectives like this one, but luckily, in our house, things are entirely different.

When I got home tonight, Amy was preparing to leave for a meeting, and Madeleine eagerly invited me to come join her and Daniel watching a movie called "America."  It sounded pretty interesting, until I found out that the official name of the movie is "Captain America."  Madeleine said that it's scary, but she likes it, and it doesn't scare her too much.  She also pointed out that neither the good guys nor the bad guys in this movie are ugly.  Obviously, at her tender age of almost-five, she has figured out the Platonic idealism that dominates American entertainment, where virtually all good-guys are good-lookin', and all bad-guys are aesthetically and metaphysically hideous, and she sees that this film deviates from that norm.

She and Daniel were quite happy with "America," and I was happy to be eating steak and "joining" them from the dining room, when Mommy came down in shock that the televisor was engaged, and announced that Ian and Daniel were strictly banned from television, tonight and tomorrow, for two separate acts of violence, each perpetrated against their respective next-youngest sibling.  Poof.

However, when Ian came downstairs, he made himself comfortable with Loony Toons, and I sought clarification on the apparent discrepancy between Mommy's misunderstanding about TV this evening, and Ian's obvious confidence and contentment as a member of the Viewing Audience.  He made it clear that the old score about hitting his brother was already resolved:

Me:  Ian, you're not supposed to be watching TV.

Ian:  How come?

Me:  Because you hit your brother.

Ian:  Then I said I'm sorry, went upstairs for about an hour, and read the Bible.

I don't think that Ian was exploiting piety; I think he consciously undertook a course of correction, and then, naturally, assumed that his efforts had cleared the proverbial slate.  And it turned out that he also felt entitled to go on the computer.  He mentioned it, and then found a historical point that crystallized the claim:

"Oh - and I went to Number Wizards today, so that means I'm owed an hour."

So apparently it turns out that on days when he has attended a slightly extra-curricular math class at school, not only does he get computer time, but it's due him.

All of these contracts, duties, penalties, rights and obligations predate the arrival of Daddy at the end of the day.  Technically, Mommy is the lawyer in the house, but in Ian's case, I think law school is really just a formality.  Law school admissions offices have a reputation for discriminating against nine-year-old's, and some things in life are really just a waiting game.  But when Attorney McDershowitz finally gets accredited, I'll know that I have the best lawyer imaginable... as long as I don't try to curtail television-and-computer access.

(May 8, 2013)