BioMom, Esq.

So BioMom's work often spills over into the household. And no, I don't just mean the incessant fiddling with the Blackberry, or the travel, or the "Oh, I'll be home at 6:00" and getting home at 6:45s.

No. Here I'm referring to her tendency to see us as witnesses to whom she can depose.

For those of you readers who are or have been intimate with lawyers, you'll understand. Their logic is a bit funny and I can usually see where I'm stepping when she enters into 'deposition mode'. I know that when she's in that space that anything can and will be used against me, and that it does, in fact, depend on what "is" means.

But I get a little protective of Eight when BioMom directs her inquiries in her direction.

She'll notice, for example, that Eight's bedcovers were in the laundry or that she's suddenly changed her clothes after a playdate:

BioMom: Did you go to the bathroom over at [Sidekick]'s?

I want to intervene: YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER THAT WITHOUT REPRESENTATION! But Eight is already skilled in the slippery logic of the lawyering mind.

Eight: Yes.

BioMom: Did you go while you were at her house?

Eight, somewhat exasperated: Yes!

BioMom: Did you have an accident?

Eight: No.

BioMom: Why did you change your clothes?

Eight, pleading the fifth and remaining silent.

BioMom, persistent: Did you have an accident?

Eight: No.

BioMom: Then why are your shorts wet? Why did you change?

Eight: Well, it wasn't an accident.

BioMom: Did you go to the bathroom.

Eight: Well, no. Not exactly.

And it goes on. Being the straightforward one, I have to leave the room. I guess going to the bathroom does not necessarily mean visiting the toilet.