Coco keeps wanting me to have a playdate with his teacher. His selling point: she’s beautiful.
What impression does he have of me? (I know, I know, it’s harmless, but, still, taken out of context… “Really, Julie, it was Coco’s idea. A playdate with a beautiful woman. Please, get your mind out of the gutter.”)
So today I had my playdate with his teacher. I called it that to get him off my back. (Writing those words, I see the irony, since his preferred mode of transportation is still my shoulders.) It was really an end-of-the-year parent-teacher conference. No surprises. He’s got a temper. He’s sweet. He doesn’t like being bossed around or rushed. He’s active and charming and caring. He’s better at using his words rather than scratching or hitting. In all, rather similar to my last performance review.
But back to the playdate aspect. Who wouldn’t want a playdate with his teacher? Honestly, sometimes it feels like have a caretaker for your child is cruel and unusual punishment. As an only moderately attractive male (three beers or two glasses of white wine and I’m kind of cute, I hear) it is rare that I get to see females be as openly cheerful and warm as around my kids. Now add the fact that I’m essentially gay to them – i.e., unavailable, therefore appealing – and you end up with a potentially frustrating situation.
Luckily I never think about these matters.