Swimming With Sharks

Perhaps the best part of being a teacher is the vacation schedule. Don’t get me wrong -- I love my job and most of what goes along with it, but you know that bumper sticker that you sometimes see on old pickup trucks that says, “The worst day of fishing is better than the best day of work”? Well, that doesn’t apply exactly here, because there are certainly days at home when it seems like it would be easier and more relaxing.

But being off-track (on vacation) is always better than being on-track (working). You don’t need to set the alarm clock, you’re free to plan your days however you choose, and you tend to forget what day it is. Weekends are no longer days off as much as they are buoys in an ocean of free time, markers to keep you from sailing off the map.

It’s absolutely beautiful.

Sadly, though, there is a downside. Sometimes when you’re floating in that sea of free time, bobbing over wave after wave and wondering seriously whether it’s Tuesday or Wednesday, you sense shadows below the water. The dark shapes circle ominously at first, then nudge your kicking legs below the surface before attacking mercilessly.

But these are not sharks; they are your children.

And so it is with us. Today started as most of these August days have with Kate stirring in her crib at about 7:00 AM. Almost immediately after I got her up, Henry emerged blinking from his room, so I fixed breakfast for both them: oatmeal for Kate, cinnamon toast for Henry.

Everything was fine, for about ten minutes -- until Alison woke up and tossed her bucket of chum into the water. In old movies there is sometimes a character described as a mean drunk; Alison is a mean early riser. If she wakes up before she should, she’s intolerable for quite a while, and this morning was no different.

Henry looked up from his toast as Alison walked into the room and made the mistake of saying good morning. So in a sense, he brought the subsequent abuse on himself.

Alison didn’t respond, so Henry said good morning again, this time with a touch of urgency. Still no response. “Alison! Good! Morning!” Alison finally responded, but not with words any human could understand. It was something that a wolverine might say, a cross between a growl and howl, “Mrrrmumh!”

And suddenly it was as if we all grabbed our scripts from the table and picked up where we had left off the night before.

Daddy: Alison, that’s not a very nice way to say good morning. Why don’t you try again.
Alison: Hmm!
Henry: Daddy, Alison’s not listening!
Daddy: I know, Henry. She’s not being very nice, is she?
Alison: Hmm!
Daddy: Alison, did you have a good night sleep?
Alison: Hmm!
Henry: Daddy, Alison’s not listening!
Daddy: Alison, what would you like for breakfast?
Alison: I wanna watch something!
Daddy: But why don’t we first have some...
Henry: No, I wanna watch something!

At which point I turned to sweet, innocent Baby Kate. Her two round beautiful eyes spoke to me clearly, and this is what she said: “Don’t worry, Daddy. I promise I’ll never behave that way when I get older. Now can I please have another bite of oatmeal?”

Ah, sweet Kate. You are my life preserver. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably never go in the water again.

Comments

[Leslie]

Ahh, yes! Kate oftentimes buoys me to reality! She's too sweet!

[weigooksaram]

Yeah, I can see how the bickering would get to you. Even with one I have moments of ebb and flow. Just when I think I can't take it any more she does something really cute.