I love Saturdays at the park because all of the Manhattan fathers come out of the woodwork.
I watched an interview of an actor describing his father as a workaholic because he worked 12 hours a day and nearly laughed out loud. Those are the hours that Oliver keeps and whenever I mention that to any of my friends here in New York the information is met with a, “Oh! That’s not too bad at all. You guys are lucky! Maybe my husband is in the wrong division.”
Sliding scale. It’s all relative.
With the brutal hours of almost all industries in the city, dads are lucky to snatch a few minutes with their kids here and there. This is particularly true near our apartment considering that we live in the Financial District.
Man, I love watching the dads play. Dads are the best at playing.
You know, the moms and the nannies, they do their best during the week. They don’t skewer and roast the children alive (mostly) which is saying something. It’s tough work being with kids 24/7.
But the dads. Oh man. Without that weight wearing on them their play is light and unfettered. Even Zoe’s little baby feelers can pick up on that smell of fun. This Saturday Zoe tried to join in as a French father played freeze tag with a group of five year old boys.
Turns out I can still understand French and turns out Zoe is still too young for freeze tag. And five year old boys.
I’m not dismissing the invaluable role of us mothers, but it can be nice to identify and celebrate the differences that we bring to the table. Dads can bring a light and humor that mothers can’t. Mothers can provide a deeper nurturing that fathers might struggle with. Of course these are generalizations, but the point is that two individuals can join together for a greater whole. Humor without nurturing can become callous and nurturing without humor becomes joyless. There is no life without both.
Also playgrounds on Saturday. Highly recommend it.