like a broken record (melting in the sun...)
We are having a heatwave and I am beside myself with happiness. Woke this morning on top of the sheets, sweating, next to SK who slept in a bit but soon jumped up and scrambled to get ready for work. Monday mornings are somber occasions for us as it starts our split for the week. We don't get to share a bed (or to see each other at all for more than half an hour) until Thursday night. And a very long, lonley three and a half days it is...
So, I drove off in one direction as SK cycled off in another and I kept my eye in my rear view mirror hoping to catch glimpses of her on her bike as we both disappeared around corners. Sad. At home, I gathered up my massive laundry and headed off to the laundromat at the end of my street. This time I managed not to overfill or otherwise damage my washer, thank god, and I even took the time to walk to the library to drop off and pick up stuff, and to Wild Oats for a yummy vegetable bread roll for breakfast.
Once the clothes were safely out of the washer and in the dryer, I walked across the street to Caffe Destino (avoiding the Starbucks right next to the laundromat because I'd rather poke a plastic coffee-stirrer into my left eye than patronize Starbucks) and got an iced americano which I enjoyed outside in a blue metal chair shaded by a tiny little tree in the only tiny oasis of shade on that whole block. As I sat, I saw the strangest caravan walk by -- two men (young men, really, boys) pulled two Radio Flyer wagons which each had two or three kids inside (all two or three years of age) while another toddler walked along on each side of each wagon, gripping the wood-railed sides for dear life, as the two men guided them down the sidewalk and across the trecherous Fremont Street towards Irving Park. Wow. I watched the unlikely procession until it was out of sight. Two men in charge of about ten toddlers. What a nightmare.
It occurred to me, then, that toddlers are probably not used to such an impersonal ratio of adults to, well, toddlers. I mean, aren't most toddlers accustomed to one-on-one attention most of the time? Maybe I'm thinking only of the toddling offspring of yuppies who can afford to stay home and tend them almost monomaniacally. I guess in daycare, the ratio of adults to toddlers probably changes. But, as I watched this unbelievably well-behaved gaggle of big-headed, overgrown babies roll by, I was struck by how peaceful and intent they all were, as though they sensed that they were each no longer the center of any one adult's universe and that they were now, instead, an important part of a large whole and they all had to work together to ensure the success of their particular adventure.
I wondered how they'd chosen which kids were allowed to ride and which kids were made to walk along the sides of the wagons. I wondered if there had been fights and crying as some kids in the wagons wanted out and some kids out of the wagon wanted in. I wondered what would happen if one of the kids in the wagon just decided to roll off the back and into traffic as the boys pulled them across the busy street. I wondered what would happen if one of the kids had to poop, needed changed, needed a bathroom, needed whatever toddlers need. They seemed so self-contained, so calm, yet the whole effort was pregnant with impending chaos. That is a peace that just can't last. I wanted to follow them to the park, but I didn't. It's over 100 degrees today, I hope all the kids lived through the outing and didn't wilt or wither in the sun. Damn what a project.
So, I drove off in one direction as SK cycled off in another and I kept my eye in my rear view mirror hoping to catch glimpses of her on her bike as we both disappeared around corners. Sad. At home, I gathered up my massive laundry and headed off to the laundromat at the end of my street. This time I managed not to overfill or otherwise damage my washer, thank god, and I even took the time to walk to the library to drop off and pick up stuff, and to Wild Oats for a yummy vegetable bread roll for breakfast.
Once the clothes were safely out of the washer and in the dryer, I walked across the street to Caffe Destino (avoiding the Starbucks right next to the laundromat because I'd rather poke a plastic coffee-stirrer into my left eye than patronize Starbucks) and got an iced americano which I enjoyed outside in a blue metal chair shaded by a tiny little tree in the only tiny oasis of shade on that whole block. As I sat, I saw the strangest caravan walk by -- two men (young men, really, boys) pulled two Radio Flyer wagons which each had two or three kids inside (all two or three years of age) while another toddler walked along on each side of each wagon, gripping the wood-railed sides for dear life, as the two men guided them down the sidewalk and across the trecherous Fremont Street towards Irving Park. Wow. I watched the unlikely procession until it was out of sight. Two men in charge of about ten toddlers. What a nightmare.
It occurred to me, then, that toddlers are probably not used to such an impersonal ratio of adults to, well, toddlers. I mean, aren't most toddlers accustomed to one-on-one attention most of the time? Maybe I'm thinking only of the toddling offspring of yuppies who can afford to stay home and tend them almost monomaniacally. I guess in daycare, the ratio of adults to toddlers probably changes. But, as I watched this unbelievably well-behaved gaggle of big-headed, overgrown babies roll by, I was struck by how peaceful and intent they all were, as though they sensed that they were each no longer the center of any one adult's universe and that they were now, instead, an important part of a large whole and they all had to work together to ensure the success of their particular adventure.
I wondered how they'd chosen which kids were allowed to ride and which kids were made to walk along the sides of the wagons. I wondered if there had been fights and crying as some kids in the wagons wanted out and some kids out of the wagon wanted in. I wondered what would happen if one of the kids in the wagon just decided to roll off the back and into traffic as the boys pulled them across the busy street. I wondered what would happen if one of the kids had to poop, needed changed, needed a bathroom, needed whatever toddlers need. They seemed so self-contained, so calm, yet the whole effort was pregnant with impending chaos. That is a peace that just can't last. I wanted to follow them to the park, but I didn't. It's over 100 degrees today, I hope all the kids lived through the outing and didn't wilt or wither in the sun. Damn what a project.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 2:40 PM
2 Comments:
I really like the way you wrote this post, especially the line, "...I was struck by how peaceful and intent they all were, as though they sensed that they were each no longer the center of any one adult's universe and that they were now, instead, an important part of a large whole and they all had to work together to ensure the success of their particular adventure." Especially the last part.
thanks rufus. i've been off my game a little lately, so the positive feedback is nice.
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