Tuesday, December 20, 2011

What's one more?

Caleb examines the "snowballs" at the Indianapolis Children's Museum.

Caleb had a play date today. What started out as a short get together, turned into an all day affair. As the play date was winding down, I called his friend's mother to coordinate a pick up time. I casually mentioned taking my boys to get a haircut later in the afternoon.

The mother interjected, "Great! ______ needs a haircut too."

At first I thought she was joking, but after several additional comments (and a few instructions), I knew she was serious. She wanted me to take ______ to get a haircut too.

"Sure," I piped in. "I'll take him for a haircut. What's one more?"

As I hung up the phone, I grew anxious about the whole ordeal. Controlling the hair fate of someone else's son seemed a little risky. Suppose the stylist cut it too short or made it too long. Could he possibly end up with a mullet? Would this mother blame me for years to come as she gazed at her 2011 Christmas photos?

Then, I reflected on how many times others (or I) have thought, "What's one more?" It seems if you surpass some childbearing threshold, the general population views your vehicle as some sort of public transport and your activities as a sort of community service.

Going to the dentist?

Why not add two neighbor kids.

Flu shots at Walgreens?

Surely Connor's bus mates can snag a ride too.

An outing to purchase Christmas presents?

Remember to bring the preschool carpool.

I suppose when you're outnumbered as much as I am, you really think, "What's one more?" The chaos seems to stay the same even when adding a few.

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