Okay…I havea question. I’m almost certain I am NOT the first person to ask this question. In fact, I’m sure this question has come up in many different ways followingall kinds of different scenarios, in turn, brewing anger and resentment. Here it is…
Why…oh….why…are our children only able to see mothers? It’s like they have been biologically pre-programmed to only recognize a maternal figure and are not able to visibly ascertain the physicality of someone of the male persuasion. In turn, there is some defensive mechanism built into the male chemistry disabling themto pay any attention to a kid’s voice. Following me? This is a serious problem, people.
Just the other day my husband and I were in the kitchen; me, cooking; him, standing there. Avery rushes in and says, “Mom.” Now, mind you, I am standing over a food processor (which I have just recently started using and have designated “the coolest machine possible”). I have zucchini and onions and bell peppers flying all over the kitchen (hey, I said I just started using it, not that I’m an expert at it). Jeremy is still…standing there.
Me: “Just a second, honey.”
Avery: “Mom.” “Mom.” “MOM!”
Jeremy: standing there.
Me: “What do you need Avery? I’m kind of busy here.”
Avery: “I need my bike helmet. I can’t find it.”
Me: “You need to wait a minute. I have zucchini juice pooling all over the counter here.”
Jeremy: still standing there.
Avery: “But we are all going on a bike ride and I need it.”
Me: “Honey. Give me a second. I’m working on something here and I need to wash off my hands.
Jeremy: You got it…still standing there.
Suddenly it dawns on me that I am not the only one standing in the kitchen at this present time. I’ve got various vegetables strewn all over the kitchen, my hands are dripping with zucchini juice (and actually starting to sting…what the hell is in this zucchini?). So I say, “Jer.”
“Jer,” I repeat.
Nothing. Has he gone soft in the head?
“Jer!” I repeat, a little louder.
“What?” he answers. This dude has witnessed NONE of the conversation I held with his daughter. He has been standing in the kitchen next to me through the entire thing and missed it all. Jesus.
“Go find Avery’s bike helmet. She needs it.”
He looks at me for a second, like, “who’s Avery?” before he snaps to it and gets moving.
Now, for educational purposes I have done a little Googling of some possibilities for why this phenomenon occurs.
I found nothing.
There is no scientific explanation available for why kids can’t see their dads, and dads don’t hear their kids. This leaves me to conclude…IT’S ALL CRAP and we have no recourse. Momsmake it all happen (with the exception of a very rare breed of dad). Without us our kids would never be wearing socks with their shoes, wouldn’t have drinks with their dinners and would never find their bike helmets. And, somehow, maybe through an innate survival instinct, our kids know this.
Next time we are standing in the kitchen and Avery comes in asking me a question I’m going to pretend I don’ t hear her. I’m curious as to what Jer will do. Maybe he’ll jump to her immediate assistance and prove my theories wrong. My gut feeling…he’ll stand there looking like he’s away in La La Land, I’ll yell athim,he’ll wake up and Avery will look surprised to see him there. Lovely.
Love to all, Mindy