"Anytime Thomas"
Across from me on the ferry is a family with two young kids. The kids are cute and seem very normal--they're busying themselves quietly with little pretend games and diversions. The boy is about 8 and the girl 4. They are at a table facing the same direction that I am, so I don't see their faces except when they look back my way. I do see the parents' faces, however, because they are both sitting across from them and I can easily see over the children's heads. It's the parents who are so strange.
I have never seen a more unhappy mom and dad combo in my life. They don't seem to have marital problems because they're sitting very close to each other. They're looking at their kids with near contempt, as if they had been tricked by these two junior bunko artists into coming onto this boat and only just realized it was little more than a floating bus. The father is especially menacing in the way he stares down his kids, looking from child to child with the steely expression of a prison guard. The mother, too, shows no love toward these kids. She just gapes at them as if they were a TV show she had grown tired of. I would think that the kids sold the car and used the proceeds to buy drugs, except they seem totally unaware of (or are probably used to) this brittle treatment from their parents.
No one says a word until the little girl, while jumping around in the booth, hits her head. The father winces first, then looks disgusted at how, for the umpteenth time, she has found a way to make herself cry. The mother gets up and administers to the child robotically, just as she might pull clothes from a dryer when prompted by a loud buzzer.
A man comes over to chat about kids and their many kidlike ways, and the woman is polite to him without being friendly or welcoming. He tries a graceful exit by explaining that he has a daughter, too, and this mother manages to ask about her age, but that's the most she can do. The father never even looks at the man during the whole exchange. Later, Mom and the little girl go the the galley, and the son siezes his chance to sit by the window and look at the water. The girl shouts when she comes back "That's my seat!" and mom and dad pressure the son more with glance than shove to relent to her.
Mom now sits between the kids and dad sits alone in the booth. "There's a window seat over there," the girl points out to her brother, but he's not falling for it. Dad's no longer sitting next to the window--he's pulled himself out to the end of the booth--but the son isn't going to sit between the cold, grey sea and his father. He's old enough to know there are limits to his dad's patience and at times like these, Pop must be afforded every luxury--and a childfree booth is most definitely a luxury to this man.
I have a growing simpathy for the mother, and a growing disdain for the father. She is now interacting with her children a little bit. When the boat parks and it's time to go, she gets the girl into the stroller while he can barely muster the responsibility watching her do it. The stroller is the center of their mobile universe, and boy has clearly been "rewarded" with the job of attaching all of their gear to it and pushing his sister down through the boat and over the gangplank. The father watches him fuss over the straps and, annoyed, barks at him, "Anytime Thomas."
I have never seen a more unhappy mom and dad combo in my life. They don't seem to have marital problems because they're sitting very close to each other. They're looking at their kids with near contempt, as if they had been tricked by these two junior bunko artists into coming onto this boat and only just realized it was little more than a floating bus. The father is especially menacing in the way he stares down his kids, looking from child to child with the steely expression of a prison guard. The mother, too, shows no love toward these kids. She just gapes at them as if they were a TV show she had grown tired of. I would think that the kids sold the car and used the proceeds to buy drugs, except they seem totally unaware of (or are probably used to) this brittle treatment from their parents.
No one says a word until the little girl, while jumping around in the booth, hits her head. The father winces first, then looks disgusted at how, for the umpteenth time, she has found a way to make herself cry. The mother gets up and administers to the child robotically, just as she might pull clothes from a dryer when prompted by a loud buzzer.
A man comes over to chat about kids and their many kidlike ways, and the woman is polite to him without being friendly or welcoming. He tries a graceful exit by explaining that he has a daughter, too, and this mother manages to ask about her age, but that's the most she can do. The father never even looks at the man during the whole exchange. Later, Mom and the little girl go the the galley, and the son siezes his chance to sit by the window and look at the water. The girl shouts when she comes back "That's my seat!" and mom and dad pressure the son more with glance than shove to relent to her.
Mom now sits between the kids and dad sits alone in the booth. "There's a window seat over there," the girl points out to her brother, but he's not falling for it. Dad's no longer sitting next to the window--he's pulled himself out to the end of the booth--but the son isn't going to sit between the cold, grey sea and his father. He's old enough to know there are limits to his dad's patience and at times like these, Pop must be afforded every luxury--and a childfree booth is most definitely a luxury to this man.
I have a growing simpathy for the mother, and a growing disdain for the father. She is now interacting with her children a little bit. When the boat parks and it's time to go, she gets the girl into the stroller while he can barely muster the responsibility watching her do it. The stroller is the center of their mobile universe, and boy has clearly been "rewarded" with the job of attaching all of their gear to it and pushing his sister down through the boat and over the gangplank. The father watches him fuss over the straps and, annoyed, barks at him, "Anytime Thomas."
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