In conversations "So how did your day go?"
Kids are cute and all, but with a level of credibility promo for reality • And also: How do we keep a lazy soul alive?
1
I have this kind of routine with the kids,
when they come back from kindergarten or school.
I ask them how it was, they say "fun", and then each of us goes about his business.
I'm not particularly proud of this routine, and I suppose trivial questions are followed by trivial answers, but that's how we usually behave.
Routine.
This week, when I picked up Oded from kindergarten, he deviated a bit from our unwritten rules.
"How was kindergarten?"
I asked him.
"Boring," he replied.
"It was fun?"
I tried to hold fast to the rules of protocol.
"No, it was boring. The girls in kindergarten don't know how to play, and I was alone all day."
"There are also some boys with you in kindergarten, they also do not know how to play?"
"No, they're too small and want to play small's games. And I'm too big."
"You are all the same age."
"But I know how to play games that no one knows how to play, not even the kindergarten teacher."
"So try to teach them."
"No, I do not want to teach."
"Tomorrow you go to kindergarten in the morning, you better teach them so you have someone to play with."
"Tomorrow I'm not going to kindergarten."
"So where are you going?"
"Being a race car driver."
I like the way
conversations with kids are interrupted sometimes, when they say something you can have no answer to.
At this point I usually nod and move on to the next item of the day, but something in the way Oded conducted the conversation, as if he was in the midst of a mid-life crisis, and not at this point in life where the only thing he cares about is whether another surprise egg stayed in the closet Want to interrogate him a little more.
So after I complimented him a little on his emerging racing career, I asked him again about the garden.
Not surprisingly, his answers were completely different from those he had provided just a minute before.
Everything was fun, and he played with everyone.
I asked him if he was safe, and he just asked me to put his plan on him.
Such are kids, cute and all, but with a level of credibility of a bombastic promo for "survival".
The next day I decided to go for a sight to behold and entered the garden a little before the designated pick-up time.
The first thing I noticed was a board, on which were written in chalk the names of the favorite summer fruits of the kindergarten children.
Every child had a fruit, except an encouragement, under which his name was written: "I do not like summer fruits!".
Yes, this is my child, I thought.
The exclamation mark, by the way, appeared originally, and I can actually imagine the panic that gripped the teacher in the face of the decisive answer she received.
The second thing I noticed was that he was alone, playing in the cars in the sandbox.
Apparently developing his racing career, and also a lump of sand in his shoes.
I approached him and asked him why he was playing alone.
"Dad, they do not understand me," he said.
I looked at him.
He looks pretty serious.
I wanted to tell him that he can explain to those who do not understand, and that he can play with everyone, but the truth?
Let him do what he wants.
Suddenly it seems appropriate.
So he likes to play alone, and does not like summer fruits.
Both things pretty much get along with the fact that he's my kid, and I also like that he's carving for himself his own way, a little before age 4.
And besides, summer fruits always light up our fridge at first with all this colorfulness of theirs, and only after the first rain comes do we allow ourselves to admit that it's time to throw them away because they are rotten.
2
Since returning to school
earlier this month, I'm a little confused.
I get up in the morning, the wife and kids have already evaporated from the house without me noticing (pay attention to the things that really matter when you choose your life partner), so I can make my coffee leisurely and adjust to the new day in front of some screen.
I no longer so much know what to do with this calm self of mine.
I thought it was someone who had already passed away, or at least I would not meet him until retirement, and sometimes I had to step on a piece of Lego that the kids had left on the floor to feel alive again.
Truth be told - I thought it would be completely different.
I thought I would appreciate every spare moment, that I would enjoy boundless staring at the ceiling and morning shows, but in fact, my mind was looking for sessions.
She used to be a lazy soul who should not and is not interested in anything other than her freedom, but today she urges me to send emails on work matters because then it will be harder to work with the kids at home.
This efficiency bothers me quite a bit.
Apparently I'm still secretly a little in love with who I was until the kids arrived.
When a friend calls, I brag about the free hours that open up for me in the morning, and how I enjoy taking advantage of all this, but inside I wonder what happened to my idle psyche.
Maybe I functioned too well a little too long, with all this stuff of work and kids?
Maybe I left her without water?
Since idleness is something
that can be adapted pretty quickly (I think the recent Corona closure proved that pretty well), I'm not really worried.
My idle soul will not die, it will just turn itself into something a little different, which corresponds with the new life of its owner.
I know she's still there, I'm giving her a peek.
But I'm pretty smart, so I only let her peek when I'm alone at home with the morning shows, or when everyone's asleep.
Then I bring her back inside, but I do not let her completely die.
She, in turn, makes me dream of back-to-back vacations and cafes in Amsterdam.
This agreement is pretty fair, overall, because it keeps us both alive.
This week I got a call from an unidentified number, and I answered.
It was a job search site, which I signed up for a few years ago, and still continues to harass.
The woman across the line said she has a job that exactly fits my resume.
I wanted to tell her that she was reading a resume that had probably not been updated for a good few years, and that in general, I had a job that I was happy with now, but instead I just asked her what job it was.
I'm afraid my idle mind needs a little more water.
shmulikn@israelhayom.co.il