So today I had to meet the “boyfriend”. My 8th grade daughter was being escorted to the mall by a young man, driven by his mother. It was my job to meet, observe and decide if it was cool to allow this tryst to proceed. This was my paternal duty; a duty that I take very seriously, much to my daughters chagrin.
The doorbell rang and I answered the door dressed in casual slacks, loafers and a golf shirt. The young admirer was wearing, cowboy boots, jeans, old t-shirt and a beat up camo ball cap. To accent his very country appearance I noticed the classic teenage half stash above his upper lip. My mind said, “Hmmm” but still I reserved judgment. He looked me in the eye and shook my hand. This was a plus. His mother seems very pleasant and was a genuinely nice person from what I could gather.
I asked what “the plan” was and he responded that they were going to the mall to “check everything out.” I joked back, “Well I hope you don’t check out everything.” We all laughed. He laughed a little more nervously than the adults, as was my intention. He seemed like a good kid.
I called my daughter down and after the logistics were all cleared and I knew her arrival time and method, I saw them out the door with, “Have fun, I’ll be here cleaning my guns until you get back.” Again, there was nervous laughter from those under driving age and genuine laughter from those above it.
I closed the door and thought that everything had gone well. I decided that he passed muster.
I turned to slip my shoes off to return upstairs to my office and noticed that my fly was down. The irony washed over me like a shocking bucket of ice water in the sweltering summer heat. Believe me, whatever you have been thinking as you read the above, went through my head in a split second. Oh the humility of it all.
There is a 70% chance that they didn’t notice, but I still don’t like those odds.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Papa Bear
Yesterday I was working in my office when I heard our nanny yell my name. I could tell this was far more important than, “we are out of milk.” It was.
My 5th grade son Aiden was sick and stayed home. So when my Kindergartener and 4th grader went to get off the bus the driver told Mack that he couldn’t let Mary off with him since he wasn’t in 5th grade. I had listed Mack as the alternate and it’s never been a problem before. Apparently… hell I don’t know what got into this guy.
Mack sprinted home to get Kelly the nanny, but the bus driver wouldn't let Mary go with her either, because she didn’t have the pink 8 ½ x 11 sheet with Mary’s name written on it. After the mad dash to get me, I ran down the stairs and out the front door without shoes to, “handle this.”
“I’m her father, thanks.”
“Where is your pink sheet?”
“Well one is in Charlotte in an airplane parking garage and the other is in Fountain Inn Body shop. Both our cars are gone today. I have my driver’s license…” Before I could finish he waved me off with his hands, shut his window and drove off.
“Like fun you will!” (Not exactly what I said, it was more like “THE F&#$ YOU WILL!”)I jumped into our van and backed out of the driveway and down the street backwards. I made it to the end of the circle first and block him in. It was all very Starsky and Hutch. I got out of the van in the rain, in my socks and approached the bus.
Now this could have gone one of two ways. One, I could start yelling and screaming, pulled this miserable excuse for a human out his window by his beard to stomp his head like a watermelon and frightened all the kids . That is what I felt like doing, but more than that I didn’t feel like getting myself arrested. So that wasn’t going to happen. Two, I could smile big, make nice and close the sale. Picking the second option I tapped on the glass with a wink to my daughter in the second row and he actually opened up his window (not that he had much choice).
“Now we’re rational adults here, I’m sure we can come to mutually beneficial arrangement.” He was dialing his cell phone when he said, “The rules are I can’t let them off the bus without their 5th grade rider or the pink certificate.”
“But I can prove I’m her father. If I was a pedophile with a pink piece of paper with her name on it, you’d give her to me?” I could see the wheels start to turn slowly.
“They will fire me.” And there was the heart of the problem.
“Listen, I understand how inflexible the school system can be. Let’s do this. You finish that call to your supervisor and tell them the situation. Let’s ask for permission so you can cover your rear.” I smiled and he made the call. I could tell he was concentrating on what he was being told because I could see wisps of smoke coming out of his ears.
“Do you have an ID?” I tried not to look too frustrated as it was already in the hand I was holding up. But hey, I had to consider the source. If he was that sharp, he would at least be a greeter at Wal-Mart by now.
“They want me to write down all your information.”
“Awesome!”
Seconds later the door opens and my daughter floated out of the bus and ran giggling to my still running van. I could hear the kids cheering and was struck by how surreal the whole thing was.
But here is the important part. I know she’s six and I only have so much time left to still be the jolly green giant in her eyes. Events like this in a child’s life are what stick in their mind forever. Someday when I’m dancing with her at her wedding, she’ll at least have this fond memory of her papa bear.
My 5th grade son Aiden was sick and stayed home. So when my Kindergartener and 4th grader went to get off the bus the driver told Mack that he couldn’t let Mary off with him since he wasn’t in 5th grade. I had listed Mack as the alternate and it’s never been a problem before. Apparently… hell I don’t know what got into this guy.
Mack sprinted home to get Kelly the nanny, but the bus driver wouldn't let Mary go with her either, because she didn’t have the pink 8 ½ x 11 sheet with Mary’s name written on it. After the mad dash to get me, I ran down the stairs and out the front door without shoes to, “handle this.”
“I’m her father, thanks.”
“Where is your pink sheet?”
“Well one is in Charlotte in an airplane parking garage and the other is in Fountain Inn Body shop. Both our cars are gone today. I have my driver’s license…” Before I could finish he waved me off with his hands, shut his window and drove off.
“Like fun you will!” (Not exactly what I said, it was more like “THE F&#$ YOU WILL!”)I jumped into our van and backed out of the driveway and down the street backwards. I made it to the end of the circle first and block him in. It was all very Starsky and Hutch. I got out of the van in the rain, in my socks and approached the bus.
Now this could have gone one of two ways. One, I could start yelling and screaming, pulled this miserable excuse for a human out his window by his beard to stomp his head like a watermelon and frightened all the kids . That is what I felt like doing, but more than that I didn’t feel like getting myself arrested. So that wasn’t going to happen. Two, I could smile big, make nice and close the sale. Picking the second option I tapped on the glass with a wink to my daughter in the second row and he actually opened up his window (not that he had much choice).
“Now we’re rational adults here, I’m sure we can come to mutually beneficial arrangement.” He was dialing his cell phone when he said, “The rules are I can’t let them off the bus without their 5th grade rider or the pink certificate.”
“But I can prove I’m her father. If I was a pedophile with a pink piece of paper with her name on it, you’d give her to me?” I could see the wheels start to turn slowly.
“They will fire me.” And there was the heart of the problem.
“Listen, I understand how inflexible the school system can be. Let’s do this. You finish that call to your supervisor and tell them the situation. Let’s ask for permission so you can cover your rear.” I smiled and he made the call. I could tell he was concentrating on what he was being told because I could see wisps of smoke coming out of his ears.
“Do you have an ID?” I tried not to look too frustrated as it was already in the hand I was holding up. But hey, I had to consider the source. If he was that sharp, he would at least be a greeter at Wal-Mart by now.
“They want me to write down all your information.”
“Awesome!”
Seconds later the door opens and my daughter floated out of the bus and ran giggling to my still running van. I could hear the kids cheering and was struck by how surreal the whole thing was.
But here is the important part. I know she’s six and I only have so much time left to still be the jolly green giant in her eyes. Events like this in a child’s life are what stick in their mind forever. Someday when I’m dancing with her at her wedding, she’ll at least have this fond memory of her papa bear.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)