Send in the clowns

This past weekend my wife and I made another in a series of jaunts to Chicago to attend my daughter's graduation (did I mention she became a PhD?), visit with both our children and to add severe poundage to my already sizeable, and I do mean sizeable, girth. These trips invariably consist of too much food, drink and Sandy and I being ridiculed by our kids. I am not quite sure why that is, but my guess is that it is due to a lack of discipline and respect. I doubt the Soprano and Gotti kids mock their parents with the reckless abandon of our children. Not to their faces anyway. I blame myself, as I was much too lenient in their upbringing.
It can tend to get annoying, especially when you are engaged in such side splitting activities as eating, sleeping, driving or breathing. The only possible exception to this ability to send our children into gales of laughter happens, as every parent knows, when the offspring need money and/or a vehicle. Sandy and I are constantly puzzled by our incredible ability to evoke our children's laughter, at such things as ordering a meal in a restaurant.
"I'll have the cheeseburger"
Roars of laughter, followed by a nearly fatal choking on their glass of water.
I guess it's not so much what you say as how you say it.
I fully expect this reaction at my funeral. The kids will come to the funeral home, Dustin will say "Get a load of that urn!" and he and Melanie will have to be taken to the emergency room.
It has gotten to the point where they now influence non blood relatives to do the same. My son in law David, the young man who so impressed me by coming to my home to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage (As I understand it, this is as rare as finding a congressman that is not taking bribes), now literally begs for mercy within 10 minutes of our arrival.
I am just wondering at what point the laughter will cease. My guess is about the second time they have to change one of OUR diapers. What goes around does come around.

Love
Dad