The only thing visible through my office window is the main entrance to a kindergarden, and a portion of the building itself. So with the exception of random passersby, my daily people-watching diet is restricted to the kids being dropped off in the morning, and later, around 1pm, getting picked up again.
A lot of screaming happens during these transactions. A lot. And although I've heard their caterwauls coming from below for over a year now (at such predictable intervals you could set your watch by them), it still startles and terrifies me. I can't help myself. When a kid lets out one of those ear-piercing wails, instinct draws my attention to the source, totally convinced such a sound could only be caused by the loss of a limb, or the emptying of an eye socket; impalement. To my great relief that's never been the case. The screaming in the morning --according to what I've gleaned from their newly-verbal protestations-- has to do with them not wanting to go to school. The afternoon screaming is because they've found they enjoyed being at school, and don't want to go home. I can identify with that. I experience the same cycle whenever I'm invited out to a bar.
A good number of Dads do the dropping off and picking up. I love the Dads, my heart swells when I see the Dads, because I'm selfish and their presence feeds into my 'the only way in hell I'll ever have children' parenthood fantasy.
In my fantasy I have a fabulous job I must disappear to for several hours a day, and a partner with an equally fabulous job he can do from home while raising the kid(s). Each night when I return, the dishes, vacuuming, laundry, doctor visits, after-school activities, etc., have all been taken care of while I was at work, and a hot meal has been prepared for us to eat together --leaving me only the fun stuff to do with our wee progeny: Talking about our day. Making faces. Trying to figure out why that lady in 2B is so mean (and creating rude names for her we agree can never, ever be uttered outside of the house, until one of us inevitably slips up and calls her Farty McCrapsalot to her face). Bath time, molding our shampoo-filled hair into mohawks and dancing around naked to God Save the Queen. Ruining our appetites with in-between-meal snacks. Purposely scaring ourselves to death --with like, sock puppets or something-- and then having to agree that pad-locking the sock drawer and sleeping with the lights on is NOT "baby-ass". And since I'm never around for all the disciplining, the don't touch that and because I said so and no, you can't take the cat to school and stop jumping on the bed and we leave in FIVE MINUTES! --I am adored. Completely.
I love watching the Daddies everyday. They give me hope. I could do without all the screaming, though.
Posted by Antigeist at March 19, 2004 01:18 PM