My parents were always cool. As long as I mainataind an A average, cleaned my room, and called at least once if I wasn't coming home I was allowed to smoke pot, run around, and go over and sleep over anyones house. They trusted me and neevr really had any rules. They figured they'd tell me once about what not to do and I should make my own damn mistakes, tho they were allways there if I needed them. But if they did give me shit all I have to do is pull the cancer card out. Oh yeah because WHO is gonna yell at a cancer kid? No one thats who, it's just one of those great things you get for going thru so much shit. It's like the race card or the sex card. it's a magical thing.