Funny Guy Friday... Do you swear to tell the truth...

     One of the most effective ways to get to the bottom of any argument between two (sometimes all three) of our kids is to have a trial... right there in the middle of the kitchen.
     These trials typically occur when the kids give completely different accounts of the same exact event... all at the exact same time. After about a minute of that noise, I will demand... Swear them in... Let's have a trial!
     Noah loves to have trials.
     One Sunday, after spending an hour in playgroup, he got in the car and told me that he was mean to another little boy. I told him that was not very nice, and next time he sees the kid, he should apologize. Noah said that he would but he wanted to have a trial.
     But you just confessed to the crime... there is no need for a trial... I found you guilty! 
     Oh, but I really want to have a trial!
     You were the only witness, and you admitted that you did it, so no trial... you are guilty! I will decide what your sentence will be!
     Then forget it, I wasn't really mean to anyone... I just wanted to have a trial!  
     Never too young to commit perjury.
     Just before Christmas, the boys were scheduled to take part in their very first piano recital.
     On the way home from shopping one day, Cheryl and I discussed the event details. I have never been to a piano recital, so I asked my lovely bride how long the recital would last. Well... you would have thought that I had committed the crime of the century.
     I don't believe you! she started. They have been working hard, so you can sit and listen and not complain about it.
     Wow... somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
     Okay... full disclosure... I actually asked: How long will this fiasco last? 
     It appears that the word fiasco seemed to have caused the problem.
     Four hours... it will last four hours! Do you have someplace else to be?
     I did... but I knew better than to answer what I had perceived to be a rhetorical question. Besides, I thought she might be bluffing about the whole four hour thing. I took a different approach.
     How many kids will be playing? 
     Ten kids. And each will play two songs!
     Now we were getting some clarification.
     I did the math in my head. Ten kids... two songs each... each song about two to three minutes long... we were talking hour... hour and a half tops.
     Manageable.
     I then was thinking about making what I thought was a very valid point.
     I had sat and listened to our boys practice their two songs for about two months. Usually, they sit down and announce they are going to play the two songs that they will play at the recital... and then they play the two songs.
     Over and over and over again.
     I have heard them numerous times. I have heard them so often that I can tell you the exact moment that they are going to mess up.
     So, I ask you... why did I have to go and listen to them at some crowded coffee house in Annapolis when I could just do what I had been doing for two months now... grab a beer, and sit in the comfort of my spacious living room while they play their two stupid songs.
     I did not see any upside to making that point, but I could not let my wife's previous snappy response go without a response!
     As innocently as I could, I asked: Why couldn't you just tell me how long it was going to be instead of scaring me with the four hour threat/estimate? 
     You are unbelievable. 
     I have been married to Cheryl for more than twenty years, and I could tell that she did not mean "unbelievable" in a good way.
     No bother... I was just happy that the recital was not going to take up half of my day!
     When we got home from shopping, with Cheryl within ear shot, I recounted my version of the conversation to Grace, prompting Cheryl to blurt out... Swear him in... Let's have a trial! 
    You can't put me on trial... it doesn't work that way. I am the judge!
    Cheryl was not moved... Grace, you're my first witness! Noah you can be the judge!
    This was a total breach in legal protocol, and I was sure that Noah would never agree to preside over this travesty of justice.
     I was wrong. Noah was more than happy to jump in and sit in judgment of dear old dad!
     Just remember, Judge Noah, you are going to want a car some day... and I love you more than Mommy does!
     A good lawyer knows the law... a great lawyer knows what makes the judge tick!   
     As an experienced trial attorney, I was not afraid of Grace's testimony, as she was not even present during the whole exchange. What relevant information could she possibly have?
     I was walking... free and clear, baby!
     Cheryl began... Gracie, what does Dad mean when he uses the word "fiasco?"
     Objection! Calls for speculation on the part of the witness.
     Overruled! 
     Uh oh.
     Gracie's eyes opened wide, and a big fat smile crossed her face when she realized Cheryl's strategy... and her own opportunity to bury her poor old dad!
     Grace couldn't get it out fast enough... He always uses the word "fiasco" whenever he doesn't want to do something... like a dentist appointment... or a church function on a weekday... or going to Grammy's house! 
     I renew my objection... besides I like going to the dentist... or to a church function on a weekday! 
     Noah couldn't resist: Overruled... you are guilty, Dad! And Mom says you are bordering on contempt for that crack about going to Grammy's.
     How can you find me guilty when I have not even testified yet? 
     No need for your testimony... things can only get worse for you!
     Well... you should know that you ain't getting a car!
     At this point, Matthew walked by, so I decided to drag him into the fray.
     Matthew, don't I always use the term "fiasco" for every event, not just the stuff I don't want to go to.
     A perfectly good leading question guiding my young star witness to the obvious answer.
     No, you just say it for the stuff you don't want to do! 
     Star witness my rear end. Traitor! No car for him either!
     Noah found me guilty... and my sentence? I had to attend the piano recital!
     Cheryl had asked one lousy question to a witness that was not even present at the scene of the crime and she won the case.  It was disheartening!
     Fortunately, I was able to forget all my troubles at the piano recital, and I am happy to report that I was all wrong about that recital. Ten kids playing two songs each... hour and fifteen minutes. The boys did wonderfully, and I had a great time.
     More importantly, I learned a valuable lesson about word choices.
     As we left the recital, Cheryl mentioned that we were going over to her parents' house the next Thursday.
     Really? Great. What time does that fiasco start?
     I quickly suggested the boys could bring their music with them!