For a moment, I wondered what was happening with the children in the kindergarten, but I quickly became addicted to the feeling of lying on my back in broad daylight.

• Illustration: Ze'ev Engelmayer

1 Although I waited for her for quite some time, returning to the routine somehow caught me off guard. In the routine that preceded the bat, much of my day was devoted to travel, and now the center of gravity of my work has moved into the home. Sometimes I work in the evening, and then the children go out in the morning to the kindergarten, the woman to work, and I stay with all the luxuries that a three-room flat in the lowlands can offer. What am I supposed to do with all this goodness?

The correct answer, of course, is to cancel. The cliché says that life is like cycling, and if it's too easy for you, it means you're in decline, but after the intense experience of the last two months, it really fits all that lightness. And besides, there is something exciting about the decline as well.

So for a moment I was wondering what was going on with the kids in kindergarten, now that they didn't have Dad's neck to climb on, but I quickly became addicted to the feeling of lying on your back in broad daylight, with no creature around to decide that right now is the right moment to jump on your stomach.

At one point I heard a voice coming from an unclear source. It took me a while, but after a quick investigation, I realized that this was the sound of my thoughts. It was a bit like meeting an old friend who had disappeared, and I wanted to hug him, but then I remembered that he was not allowed to hug and that he was not an inner sound at all and not a human being, so I ended up just sending a symbolic elbow to the air. It was exciting.

At two o'clock the children returned (the noon had not yet returned, because he connected two different genes), after about half an hour a friend came to each, and very soon the inner sound returned to hide where he could hear himself. For the most part I manage to thwart this kind of square meetings, but this time it just didn't matter. It was so hot, and the central air conditioner in the house wasn't working, so I didn't care for two more kids in this sweat bath.

Sometime during the afternoon, I discovered that I was calculating the hours I had until the next time I had a home alone. Everyone wants to be the best parent in the world, that's for sure, but only a few are willing to put in the tremendous effort. Probably not one of them.

On the other hand, being an ordinary and reasonable father is also not obvious. This week, the children were screaming and crying, which lasted until their bedtime, who would sit in Mickey Mouse's booster on our trip to Haifa. By the way, we haven't assembled the booster yet, and the trip is in a week and a half. Just have a clue.

All the mumbling postings of parents in the Corona era must have also made the bachelors of you realize that being a parent is a trip that can sometimes turn into a nightmare. And really, sometimes this second of the evening when I see their eyes closing is my climax to today. But sometimes, when the kids come to our bed in the morning and I'm still asleep, and one of them clutches his head to mine without speaking, and so I slowly wake up in the comments of their eyes - even a man with the least cynicism of mine must admit that nothing wins this moment.

2 It was a little painful for me to see the populist festival created this week around middle school students "Alon" in Ra'anana, who were not allowed into classrooms on the grounds that they came with shorts. I saw them standing outside the school gate and exclaiming "You can't let us go," without being aware of the irony of reading them, and of actually being used as a play tool.

I don't think anyone would say a word to them if they came with a shorts like the boys. However, there is no connection between the shorts the boys come with, the distributor's shorts they wear, and, frankly, it may be a bit of a strong word for such a tiny item. By the way, I also don't think boys can come to school with a shorts like that, and if they tried, their friends would probably have something to say about it long before they reached the school gates.

So, although the specific problem of the "Oak" brigade girls was more due to the general conservatism of the institution where they study and less than their gender, the responses that are automatically withdrawn are not late: "This is women exclusion," "The school turns girls into sexual objects," " We are brought back to the days of slave stories, "and" this is gender-based abuse, "too.

It is very easy to throw blown-up words into the air, but it is best to keep them for real gender discrimination cases, which are also lacking. Because words have consequences. The students hear them, believing that by wearing these silly trousers, they are fighting for some lofty purpose, and on the way develop a victim image. Because if the evil patriarchy abuses me when she forbids me to wear pants, then why not be guilty of losing me a few points on the test as well? And if you chose a son instead of a particular activity, isn't that a clear exclusion of women?

Women throughout history have suffered quite a bit from the male patriarchy, and even today, there are some stubborn pockets of resistance that are strict to excite them, but between that and the students' racks in Raanana there is nothing. The story of the pageants, which, by the way, is clearly uncomfortable, should not interest the general public: it is a code that should be closed within each school individually. And regardless, there is a lot of hypocrisy about the entire female agenda, institutionalized media and the whole. Some are in a hurry to support any new female whim that is on the agenda, just so they won't get caught on the wrong side of the map.

As a liberal-minded person, I believe one should not interfere with one's attire. As the day comes, when Naama reaches the age when such things are debated, I will probably let her say the last word. But there is also a matter of boundaries. There is something very problematic as soon as what is revealed is a bit more of a spy, and unfortunately, that is exactly where the debate comes. Nor will a thousand posts on social networks convince me that behind these shorts is a feminist agenda. The question is yes or no. And I say no.

shishabat@israelhayom.co.il