Wednesday, October 20, 2004
FALL FUN FAIR
"Where's LZ?"
"Is LZ around?"
"Where's LZ?"
LZ was busy with D at an all day band competition, and I'd taken the Things out to the local community event. As someone who is fairly well read and fairly well immersed in popular culture, I'm very much aware of the possibilities when a dad has the kids for a day in a sea of moms. Another mom is invariably intrigued by the fish out of water and casts a hook. This then leads (depending on whether one is the high art or the low art sort) to anything from an erotic entanglement ending in disaster, or to a series of comic blunders of the Mr. Mom variety.
Apparently we don't live in that kind of town. Or mabye I'm just not the right type of dad.
The other moms appeared irritated with me for showing up in public without LZ, as if I had forbidden her to leave the house, or even forcibly restrained her in some way. A few kept looking past me, scanning the crowd, as if willing LZ to appear over the horizon and save their afternoons.
I saw Amy's mother. She didn't look especially happy to see me, so I walked over to her.
"I'm glad to see Amy's recovered," I said.
"Recovered? Recovered from what?" she asked.
"Why the girls told me that Charlee Anne had cut Amy in half and put her back together," I said. "Looks like it went off without a hitch." I gestured to Amy, who was obviously in one piece.
"We've got to get going," she said. "Amy wants to paint a pumpkin."
Someone was tugging on my sleeve. "Daddy, can we paint a pumpkin?" T2 asked.
"Sorry," I said. "Our religion forbids the creation of graven images. Especially at five dollars a pop."
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The girls threw some plastic balls in the general direction of some peach baskets.
"They get a small prize just for trying," the woman at the stand told me. "Would you like to buy some more balls and let them try for a bigger prize?"
"I hope you're not trying to hustle me like some two bit carny," I said. "The small prize will be fine."
The woman made a sour face at me as she pointed the girls to a basket containing the small prizes.
"That was Callie's mom," T2 told me as we left the stand.
"Uh oh," I said.
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I took note of the prizes. T2 had a bag of Skittles. T1 has a pack of something called candy sticks. It took me a second to realize that they were oldtime candy cigarettes, renamed for the new world.
"Look Daddy, I'm smoking," T1 said. She had one of the candies expertly drooping out of the side of her mouth.
Two more moms passed by. One stopped, hands on hips, and glared at me as if I had personally fired up a Marlboro and forced it on T1.
"How do you know about smoking anyway?" I asked.
"From TV," they both said.
"Oh," I said. Then I remembered: "Wait a minute," I said. "They don't smoke on TV, especially not on the shows you watch."
"We saw it on The Simpsons," T1 said.
"D lets us watch it with him, in his room," T2 added.
Oh," I said.
"Can we trade some candy?" T2 asked her sister. "I want to smoke too."
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We came upon a raffish looking man with slicked back black hair and an aggressive mustache.
"Hola, muchachas," he said as he passed.
"Hola, senor," the Things replied.
"What was that?" I asked. "Who was that?"
"Our Spanish teacher," they said.
"You have a Spanish teacher? In kindergarten?" I asked.
"Si senor," they giggled.
"Daddy," T1 said. "El cielo es azul."
"And Daddy," T2 said. "La hierba es verde."
"I believe you," I said.
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We watched a small boy roll down a big hill. He got up and ran right toward us. He pointed to himself, and shouted "Arriba." Then he ran back up the hill, laughing hysterically all the while.
"That was Kenny," Ti said.
"I thought you didn't like Kenny," I said.
"The Mean Kenny is the one we don't like," T2 said. "That one is the Silly Kenny."
"We like the Silly Kenny," Ti said. "Even though he is a nut."
"Why do you think he is a nut?" I asked.
"I think he watches too much TV," T2 said.
"Well, I think it's too much sugar," T1 opined.
"Too much sugar?" I said. "Where did you come up with that?"
"It's what the bus mom said about me and Charlee Ann," she answered.
"Oh," I said.
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I came upon a big burly man shepherding two little, though burly, children through the refreshment line. He looked vaguely familiar.
"Long time, no see," he said.
"Baseball season?" I guessed.
He gave me a bonecrushing handshake.
We stood there in silence.
A black standard poodle walked by unaccompanied.
"I'd rather carry my wife's handbag than be seen with a dog like that," he said.
I wasn't sure how to respond. "Me too" seemed a little lukewarm as well as unoriginal. I tried to picture any of LZ's handbags but couldn't conjure any up. I could have pointed out that the dog appeared to be alone and doing quite well. Then I remembered that we had a dog that, in certain quarters, could be seen as even worse than a poodle. Did the burly guy know that? Was he insulting me?
"Oh," I said.
"Daddy, can we eat on a stack of hay instead of a picnic table?" T2 asked.
"Sure," I said.
"See you around," I said to the burly guy.
He didn't hear me. A couple of the moms had attached themselves to him and were hanging on his every word. I though I heard him say "handbag," just before the moms broke out in waves of laughter.
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"What a great day," I said as we were leaving. "I guess you girls saw all your friends."
"Yes, daddy," they said.
I sprung the trap. "I was hoping to meet Charlee Anne," I said. "But she wasn't there, was she?"
"Daddy," they said, "we already told you. Charlee Anne can't come. She had to go on a secret trip."
"I knew nothing about this," I said.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LZ was waiting for us at home.
"What went on at that fair?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Eve called. She heard you weren't letting the girls do any of the activities. You told them they were Jewish and weren't allowed to participate."
"There's been a lot of misinformation about this Fun Fair," I said. "And I'm going to get to the bottom of it."
"Where's LZ?"
"Is LZ around?"
"Where's LZ?"
LZ was busy with D at an all day band competition, and I'd taken the Things out to the local community event. As someone who is fairly well read and fairly well immersed in popular culture, I'm very much aware of the possibilities when a dad has the kids for a day in a sea of moms. Another mom is invariably intrigued by the fish out of water and casts a hook. This then leads (depending on whether one is the high art or the low art sort) to anything from an erotic entanglement ending in disaster, or to a series of comic blunders of the Mr. Mom variety.
Apparently we don't live in that kind of town. Or mabye I'm just not the right type of dad.
The other moms appeared irritated with me for showing up in public without LZ, as if I had forbidden her to leave the house, or even forcibly restrained her in some way. A few kept looking past me, scanning the crowd, as if willing LZ to appear over the horizon and save their afternoons.
I saw Amy's mother. She didn't look especially happy to see me, so I walked over to her.
"I'm glad to see Amy's recovered," I said.
"Recovered? Recovered from what?" she asked.
"Why the girls told me that Charlee Anne had cut Amy in half and put her back together," I said. "Looks like it went off without a hitch." I gestured to Amy, who was obviously in one piece.
"We've got to get going," she said. "Amy wants to paint a pumpkin."
Someone was tugging on my sleeve. "Daddy, can we paint a pumpkin?" T2 asked.
"Sorry," I said. "Our religion forbids the creation of graven images. Especially at five dollars a pop."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The girls threw some plastic balls in the general direction of some peach baskets.
"They get a small prize just for trying," the woman at the stand told me. "Would you like to buy some more balls and let them try for a bigger prize?"
"I hope you're not trying to hustle me like some two bit carny," I said. "The small prize will be fine."
The woman made a sour face at me as she pointed the girls to a basket containing the small prizes.
"That was Callie's mom," T2 told me as we left the stand.
"Uh oh," I said.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I took note of the prizes. T2 had a bag of Skittles. T1 has a pack of something called candy sticks. It took me a second to realize that they were oldtime candy cigarettes, renamed for the new world.
"Look Daddy, I'm smoking," T1 said. She had one of the candies expertly drooping out of the side of her mouth.
Two more moms passed by. One stopped, hands on hips, and glared at me as if I had personally fired up a Marlboro and forced it on T1.
"How do you know about smoking anyway?" I asked.
"From TV," they both said.
"Oh," I said. Then I remembered: "Wait a minute," I said. "They don't smoke on TV, especially not on the shows you watch."
"We saw it on The Simpsons," T1 said.
"D lets us watch it with him, in his room," T2 added.
Oh," I said.
"Can we trade some candy?" T2 asked her sister. "I want to smoke too."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We came upon a raffish looking man with slicked back black hair and an aggressive mustache.
"Hola, muchachas," he said as he passed.
"Hola, senor," the Things replied.
"What was that?" I asked. "Who was that?"
"Our Spanish teacher," they said.
"You have a Spanish teacher? In kindergarten?" I asked.
"Si senor," they giggled.
"Daddy," T1 said. "El cielo es azul."
"And Daddy," T2 said. "La hierba es verde."
"I believe you," I said.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We watched a small boy roll down a big hill. He got up and ran right toward us. He pointed to himself, and shouted "Arriba." Then he ran back up the hill, laughing hysterically all the while.
"That was Kenny," Ti said.
"I thought you didn't like Kenny," I said.
"The Mean Kenny is the one we don't like," T2 said. "That one is the Silly Kenny."
"We like the Silly Kenny," Ti said. "Even though he is a nut."
"Why do you think he is a nut?" I asked.
"I think he watches too much TV," T2 said.
"Well, I think it's too much sugar," T1 opined.
"Too much sugar?" I said. "Where did you come up with that?"
"It's what the bus mom said about me and Charlee Ann," she answered.
"Oh," I said.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
I came upon a big burly man shepherding two little, though burly, children through the refreshment line. He looked vaguely familiar.
"Long time, no see," he said.
"Baseball season?" I guessed.
He gave me a bonecrushing handshake.
We stood there in silence.
A black standard poodle walked by unaccompanied.
"I'd rather carry my wife's handbag than be seen with a dog like that," he said.
I wasn't sure how to respond. "Me too" seemed a little lukewarm as well as unoriginal. I tried to picture any of LZ's handbags but couldn't conjure any up. I could have pointed out that the dog appeared to be alone and doing quite well. Then I remembered that we had a dog that, in certain quarters, could be seen as even worse than a poodle. Did the burly guy know that? Was he insulting me?
"Oh," I said.
"Daddy, can we eat on a stack of hay instead of a picnic table?" T2 asked.
"Sure," I said.
"See you around," I said to the burly guy.
He didn't hear me. A couple of the moms had attached themselves to him and were hanging on his every word. I though I heard him say "handbag," just before the moms broke out in waves of laughter.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What a great day," I said as we were leaving. "I guess you girls saw all your friends."
"Yes, daddy," they said.
I sprung the trap. "I was hoping to meet Charlee Anne," I said. "But she wasn't there, was she?"
"Daddy," they said, "we already told you. Charlee Anne can't come. She had to go on a secret trip."
"I knew nothing about this," I said.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LZ was waiting for us at home.
"What went on at that fair?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Eve called. She heard you weren't letting the girls do any of the activities. You told them they were Jewish and weren't allowed to participate."
"There's been a lot of misinformation about this Fun Fair," I said. "And I'm going to get to the bottom of it."
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