Dropping Abby off at school reminds me of a comedian I once heard. Supposedly, he took his daughter to the playground, and the mothers there were rabid. Playgrounds are usually pretty safe environments with all the parents present, and it borders on expected for a mother to look after kids who aren’t her own should something happen like a fall, or scrape, or stranger offering candy. A man among the children is instantly labelled a predator. And sometimes, that’s how I feel taking Abby to school
It’s not all the time, and it’s never when Abby is with me. It’s always when I come out. There is some mother out there with her kids, and she’s very protective. I smile at all these people in the morning, but I often get nothing but scathing looks, as if to say, “Get away from my baby! Get away from my car! Why are you here? Get away from me!”
I usually drop Abby off at her preschool at least two days a week. This behavior among the mothers of the children is not universal, just common among the mothers that drop their kids off at the same time as I do. But there are more weird things that these parents do that make me wonder about them.
I’ve had mothers behind me while taking Abby into school. They’ll come up behind with two kids on foot, a baby carier in one hand, and lunches and backpacks in the other. I’ll hold the door open for them, which they obviously can’t get for themselves, and they’ll give me the deepest looks of what I can’t label as anything but outright hatred. They make me wish I hadn’t tried to help. Maybe that’s what they want.
Some of the mothers are very picky. I’ve seen more than one kid’s mom arguing with the school manager over what her kid ate for lunch, or how she was allowed to go dressed outside. I admit to sharing some of these same concerns when other children aren’t well supervised enough to prevent a bobby pin from poking into Abby’s ear (yeah, that wasn’t a fun day), but these picky little things that don’t really matter except in her mind. It’s like she needed to pick a fight with someone. And it’s not just the moms that are weird.
There’s this one kid in Abby’s class whose dad drops his kid off very frequently. I know he’s married because his wife takes their other kid to the baby room. I swear to you he tries to flirt with Abby’s teacher. He’s not good at it and it’s creepy, because he ends up lingering much longer than he really needs to, and the teachers are paying him no attention. Someone should clue him in - “Dude, you’re married, and they wouldn’t want you even if you weren’t.”
I’ve noticed a weird lunch phenomenon with these other parents, too, that I didn’t pick up on until Berta mentioned it. Remember, Abby doesn’t eat too much. So when we pack a Ziploc bag full of crackers and two cheese sticks with her milkbox, that fills her up. We pack Abby’s lunch either in an insulated lunch bag or just in the little separate Ziploc baggies.
These other parents pack Cheetos and Doritos and other calorie/sugar-laiden Frito-Lay products with cookies and candy and chocolate and high-sugar drinks.
No wonder Abby hates the food we make. We’re health nuts compared to these other parents!
The parents that attend the festivals at Abby’s school are amazing, too. They all take the few itty-bitty seats as close to the kids as they can, blocking any hope of any other parents getting close enough to see their kid sing. It’s not an auditorium, just a tiny little room. They could at least clear out somewhat when their kid isn’t on so that other kids’ parents can take a couple pictures, or maybe see any performance at all.
Ah, well. I’m glad there are at least a few things I can point at and say, “At least I’m not like them.”
