November 13, 2009 · Behavior | Suburban Survival
Ever (accidentally) cross the line with some kid’s mom?
“We should get together for a playdate,” says the mother of one of Girl Child’s friends from school.
“Yeah,” I say, “The kids, too.”
For a second-fraction the woman freezes, then walks on.
A dad I’ve been talking with hears and sees. We grin at the momentary awkwardness. Made the mama play statue, man. Funny.
No, not funny. Stupid. And there will be consequences.
At the very least I will feel like a tool for violating The Capon Code, by which work-at-home/stay-at-home fathers must live. To survive, here in Woman’s World, you make like you belong to a new, in-between gender, completely immune to male-female interest/tension/intrigue/anything.
You especially do not speak words that could come off sleazeball -- extra especially not to a mama talking playdate.
Truth, my “kids, too” wit bomb is about the way the woman says “we” to mean them, the kids, as if we the grownups no longer exist. I do it, too, and it's weird but also amusing, right? The other guy and I go heh-heh-heh because we’re guys.
But I still violate The Code, because my words could spin wrong and maybe did because the mama made that little freeze-step.
Think about what has been put at risk:
All pure gold.
But screw up and break The Code, make somebody nervous, it could be gone, gone, gone. The price is too heavy. Please, please, please, don't make me pay.
Tell — Have you misspoke, misstepped, mis-something? What happened?
Try, just try, not to feel good. No music in the world is more fine and mellow than Silver’s big jazz smile for his progenitor. Minus words, we don’t know why thinking of Dad made the son so happy, but the mood catches.
Bruel's brill books starring psycho cat has our seriously reluctant reader second-grader poring over the pages for half-hour stretches, even more, without threats…
October 15, 2010 | Permanent Link
Comments
I was in a toy store yesterday. A Mom and her two kids were marveling over the merchandise when she turned to me and said, “My kids are very stimulated.” “Uh-Huh,” I said, “And I’m stimulated too!!!” she admitted gleefully.
The perfect set-up for a snippy comeback, right? But did I take it? Nope. Because I know what you now know: Mothers do not like funny.
Comment #1, posted by Debbie on November 15, 2009 at 03:29:49 PM
Cripes, I hope “playdate” does not become a synonym for
an assignation, tryst, criminal conversation or whatever. Well, I guess “criminal conversation” is not in common use nowadays, but surely there are enough synonyms available without adding “playdate” to the list.
Comment #2, posted by Chuck the Duck on November 15, 2009 at 09:32:23 PM
Alas, more casualties of our uptight, stressed out society: wit and flirtation. And i thought you had to be in a corporate setting all day long to have to avoid any allusions to the fact that we really do not all inhabit that in-between gender Pater alludes to. You’re right, of course, to be sensitive to such things. But still…I leave you with this brief poem by Ezra Pound:
Tame Cat
It rests me to be among beautiful women
Why should one always lie about such matters?
I repeat:
It rests me to converse with beautiful women
Even though we talk nothing but nonsense,
The purring of the invisible antennae
Is both stimulating and delightful.
Ezra Pound
Comment #3, posted by Melody on November 18, 2009 at 11:02:54 AM
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