It takes about two hours for me to get to school because Toronto’s public transit system is underfunded and embarrassing for a major city. It was nice to have my commute’s monotony broken by the mischievous smile of a six-year-old. He took a seat beside me at the back of the bus, while his mother sat down near the front, holding onto a stroller with another lil one resting inside. The mother and I exchanged smiles and I let her know it was OK for her son to sit with me. She looked as grateful for the break as I was for the entertainment. The kidlet and I told each other jokes and chatted about our lives, I told him about my daughter and he told me about how he was dressed like a Ninja Turtle. It was a lovely time save for the grown man sitting parallel to us. The adult kept passive aggressively mumbling for my little buddy to shut up. The first two times this GROWN ASS MAN did this, I ignored him. But his loud groans were becoming unbearable and I told him to calm the fuck down. My buddy was unfazed and continued merrily chatting with me until the bus reached his stop and he skipped off with his mother.
The adult then proclaimed loudly, gesturing with his arms all about, that kids “that age” should not be allowed out of the house. This grown up went as far as to say his mother should not leave the house either. I asked how they were expected to get food, go to the bank, and do all the things that a lot of us generally go outside for. He suggested that, “She should have thought of that.” I laughed, as people watched us, containing their own laughter, and shrugged. With a defiant face he told me that the only reason I seemed to love kids is that I have one. He looked really smug, like he unearthed a secret that I was a mother, and that it wasn’t obvious all along that he had been listening to the lil one chatting and me. I responded that I am a mother because I love kids. We got to our stop, I wished him better days, and we never saw each other again.
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