It is said that Samuel Clemens remarked that when he was a young teen he thought his parents were some of the most ignorant people he’d ever met and by the time he was twenty one he was amazed at how much smarter his parents had gotten in such a short time.

I often reflect on this observation by Sam Clemens because I can relate to it. When I was younger, I really believed that my parents didn’t know much about a lot of things – why else would their vocabulary be limited to one, overused word, “No?” It made no difference what I requested. I could have requested to join the Boy Scout jamboree in the mountain province, or to go rafting down the river, their answer would have been the same, “No.” One day I asked if I could please have a pair of Converse Chuck Taylor high top shoes. You’d think I had asked for the moon.

“No way,” came the canned answer. Not even a tender explanation of our abject poverty and the fact that we couldn’t afford such items of luxury. It was just a plain, no frills “No.”

Over the years I have wrestled with the kind of reasoning my parents employed to raise us kids. I figured that my parents were also just learning how to raise their own children since they were just newly married. I was the eldest. I was the prototype upon which my parents wanted to create a mold, a template for the rest of my siblings to follow and to emulate. They feared one thing – making a mistake and having their name besmirched should I turn out to be a criminal. They were afraid for my siblings to use that mistake or failure as a precedent, as an SOP for their own bad behavior. So, they were acting out of a conservative approach tempered by their fear of failure – I concluded.

Later on, as all of us kids grew up and had our own families, I noticed my parents grew more mellow and very patient – to a fault – with their grandchildren. They became doting grandparents. Whatever happened to the Tiger and Tigress I wondered.

In my own household one evening after we had eaten dinner, one of my teenage sons filed a grievance as he began to wash dishes. He just couldn’t do his assigned chores; he had to file a complaint. “Why do I have to wash these dishes all over again? I already washed them after lunch today. Why do I have to make up my bed when I get up in the morning only to mess it up again when I go to bed at night? I am looking for answers.” He was always lawyer-like, albeit a greenhorn, when he filed these grievances.

I smiled inwardly, not showing any overt reaction. I have heard these sort of complaints from him before. I decided to give him some leeway, cut him some slack; I didn’t volunteer an answer. I also knew from past experience that anything I could have offered in the form of an explanation would have been disregarded as static and just plain white noise. I bit my tongue and went about my business.

Later on that week, I was working in the garage workshop when I heard a desperate call for help. It was my son the lawyer. I heard a muffled voice coming from the guest bathroom… “Dad… Dad… somebody…,” the voice trailed away overcome by the whining of my electric handsaw.

“Yes, Son?” I shouted back shutting and putting down the handsaw. “Yes, Son?” I repeated myself. I stopped what I was doing, unplugged my saw and went in the house to investigate.

“Dad… I need a roll. Would you kindly slip a roll?” came the plea from the bowels of the bathroom.

“A roll of what, Son?” I answered, holding back a mischievous grin that was quickly forming on my face. I knew exactly what the boy was asking for but here was my chance to get back at “my lawyer son” a little bit so I was milking the opportunity for all it was worth.

“Dad… I need to wipe myself, please!” my son imploringly said.

I couldn’t resist. “Why?” I shot back. “Didn’t you do that same thing yesterday when you had to go? Why do you want to do it all over again? You’ve already wiped yourself yesterday obviously – right?… your words, not mine.”

There was a momentary silence that enveloped the whole house. I could hear the gears in my son’s head churning. “Dad. . . I will gladly make up my bed every morning when I get up. I promise to wash the dishes whenever it is my turn… may I please have a roll?”

I smiled heartily. My son the lawyer had just passed the bar exam. He had shown some growth and maturity.