There really is only so much time you can spend indoors.
No matter how many rides I give around the living room on my shoulders…
No matter how many rides I give around the living room on my shoulders…
No matter how many colorful and/or educational toys there are within reach…
No matter how many stories I read, funny faces I make, or goofy dances I do to entertain…
There’s still a definite threshold of time that Reese can handle being stuck inside the house before calm turns into restlessness turns into fussiness turns into crankiness. For me too, of course. That's when it's time for a walk. So I load Reese into the carrier, the carrier into the stroller, the extra handkerchief into the pocket, and out the front door we go. There’s no real destination in mind for the walk as we live in an averagely nice suburb where each street of houses opens onto another street of equally, averagely nice houses. I push Reese along and she keeps track of all the things there are to look at from her angle…mostly the trees and tops of houses…I’m guessing, but I think she prefers the trees to the houses.
I’ve gone on quite a few of these walks lately, but I never
get too many steps out the door when the same thought hits me: Do I look
suspicious right now?
Obviously there’s nothing wrong with a father taking his daughter for a walk, in fact it’s great for a father to take his daughter for a walk. But traditionally the mental image I think most people have is of moms, or grandmas, or even nannies pushing a stroller around a neighborhood. Apart from me, I can’t think of a single time I’ve seen a man pushing a stroller around this neighborhood. As I keep walking with Reese, I think on this some more. Then I start to play out weird scenarios where a concerned passerby or two thinks I may have kidnapped this child. And they confront me.
Concerned Citizen 1: Is this your child?
Me: Yes. Of course she is.
Concerned Citizen 2: Where’s her mom?
Me: She’s at work right now. Why do you ask?
Concerned Citizen 1: Hey, you seem kinda nervous.
Me: Please, I’m just trying to take my daughter for a walk.
As I try to leave, a police cruiser pulls up and an officer steps out. It escalates quickly at this point. The concerned citizens explain that they think I’m some sort of deranged kidnapper and they believe the child’s mother has been knocked unconscious or worse. I protest, trying to convince everyone that this really is my daughter and we’re just out for a walk. The officer lets his hand rest on his weapon and asks if I can prove this is my daughter. I think on this and realize the best I can do is show the officer and concerned citizens (a crowd of which is beginning to form) a few pictures and a couple of short videos of Reese that I have on my phone. But when I try to offer that as proof, someone in the crowd shouts that I probably stole the phone too. The crowd’s anger swells, Reese is taken by a nearby social worker, and I’m placed into the back of the police cruiser. A news van is now on the scene and the professional looking reporter is taking statements from witnesses about the kidnapping attempt that was foiled by the brave and diligent citizens of my neighborhood. And the officer drives me away, I’m left wondering how I’m going to explain to Erica, with my one phone call from jail, why our daughter is now with social services.
Obviously there’s nothing wrong with a father taking his daughter for a walk, in fact it’s great for a father to take his daughter for a walk. But traditionally the mental image I think most people have is of moms, or grandmas, or even nannies pushing a stroller around a neighborhood. Apart from me, I can’t think of a single time I’ve seen a man pushing a stroller around this neighborhood. As I keep walking with Reese, I think on this some more. Then I start to play out weird scenarios where a concerned passerby or two thinks I may have kidnapped this child. And they confront me.
Concerned Citizen 1: Is this your child?
Me: Yes. Of course she is.
Concerned Citizen 2: Where’s her mom?
Me: She’s at work right now. Why do you ask?
Concerned Citizen 1: Hey, you seem kinda nervous.
Me: Please, I’m just trying to take my daughter for a walk.
As I try to leave, a police cruiser pulls up and an officer steps out. It escalates quickly at this point. The concerned citizens explain that they think I’m some sort of deranged kidnapper and they believe the child’s mother has been knocked unconscious or worse. I protest, trying to convince everyone that this really is my daughter and we’re just out for a walk. The officer lets his hand rest on his weapon and asks if I can prove this is my daughter. I think on this and realize the best I can do is show the officer and concerned citizens (a crowd of which is beginning to form) a few pictures and a couple of short videos of Reese that I have on my phone. But when I try to offer that as proof, someone in the crowd shouts that I probably stole the phone too. The crowd’s anger swells, Reese is taken by a nearby social worker, and I’m placed into the back of the police cruiser. A news van is now on the scene and the professional looking reporter is taking statements from witnesses about the kidnapping attempt that was foiled by the brave and diligent citizens of my neighborhood. And the officer drives me away, I’m left wondering how I’m going to explain to Erica, with my one phone call from jail, why our daughter is now with social services.
As I’m playing this nightmare scenario out in my head, I realize that I probably have a really intense look on my face as I’m pushing the stroller. An intense look that could be misconstrued as malice, villainy, or otherwise up-to-no-goodedness. Now I really am acting suspiciously! But eventually I stop imagining and I notice Reese looking up at me with a smile. I never would have thought to describe an infant’s smile as reassuring, but in those moments it truly is. Reese is doing okay. She’s not suspicious. She doesn’t think there is anything the least bit strange about me pushing her stroller. And since she’s the reason I’m out on this walk, right now hers is the opinion that really matters.
Then I smile back. So take that, suspicious neighbors and
concerned citizens. She’s smiling at me
and we’re both enjoying this walk!
But seriously, she really is my daughter, I didn’t steal this phone, and you don’t need to call the police.
More days to come.
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