faulty vision
Children’s Day — once known as Boys’ Day, but now rebranded as a gender-neutral holiday in these modern days, I don’t know why when there’s a perfectly good Girls’ Day on March 3, but okay, I’m all for equality of the sexes if it means getting an extra holiday in for mine — was this past weekend. May 5th is the specific date for the celebration. When I was growing up, it used to be about celebrating the presence of sons in a household. Nowadays, it celebrates the presence of any kids at all.
Someone in Japan is paying attention to the census.
So, last Thursday was Bring Your Kid to Work Day. (Coincidentally, the Dow Jones plummeted the following week. Take that as you will.)
For Hobbes’s last birthday, the family of one of his little friends gave him Candyland, or as I like to call it, ‘Happy Fun Times with Childhood Obesity.’ He loves it. He thinks it’s brilliant. This is because he’s 3, and has the emotional maturity of a cocker spaniel.
There was this thing someone told me when I was still pregnant and discovered that I was going to have a boy. I remember thinking at the time, gosh, that’s good to know, but for the life of me I can’t remember if it was, “You are so screwed,” or “Boys are really dumb.” I wish I could remember, because I’d like to thank that person for the insight into my future.
There are times when I’m worried that I am not a good mother. This is, I’m sure, something all mothers go through (all mothers who want to be good mothers, anyway). The fact that Hobbes is 3 and a half now, but has yet to start an instrument, can’t read, and only speaks one language makes me worry about his future. Because, you know, he’s already 3 and that means there’s only 13 more years to prepare before he has to start applying to colleges.
In August (and September and October), I went through a strange funk where my usual sunny good-natured underwent an identity crisis, and became instead a desire to make everyone’s lives suck. From a certain point of view, you could call it a midlife crisis. Men try to feel younger by getting the stuff they would’ve liked to do when they were adolescents, but: (1) couldn’t afford; or (2) were too smart to do. Me, I went for the gift that keeps on giving. I did damage to other people’s psyches instead of my wallet, showing (if I do say so myself) an excellent grasp of ROI.
I didn’t give birth to a son, all those years ago. I had Newton’s first law.
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