Empty Pale Green Pants

The results of the trash sorting blog poll are in.

The different color trash cans at Whole Foods market completely intimidate me. I am not a global warming guy. Some really smart people say it's true. Some really smart people disagree. I'm neither. I'm just a normal guy who doesn't like to pit out his white tee shirts when it gets really hot. So I hope it's not true. I am concerned for the world. I do think it considerate to be a good steward of the environment. But at what price? There are three trash cans by the exit. Why can't we pay people to sort trash to stimulate the economy? Aren't we worried about the economy anymore? Wouldn't it make more sense freeing my time up to be productive (or to take a nap) rather than spend ten minutes figuring out where to put my trash? Jill came down on me hard for throwing banana peels out in parking lots. That's organic. I don't get it. Why is that littering? Okay, in the strictest sense it is littering. So in the strictest dictionary sense, a banana tree dropping its fruit to the floor of the forest is also littering.

I am confused about El Nino. I could never figure out the physics behind the toilet flushing one direction in the Northern hemisphere and another direction in the Southern hemisphere. Does it matter all that much? I watched a show about Amish teens entering the season of choice between the Amish way or the English way, rumspringa. Amish people don't believe in education past the eighth grade. Is there something to that? Charlie likes to flush toilets. He doesn't care which way the water circulates. He doesn't even mind if the toilet needs to be emptied. He's a water waster. He's just fascinated by it for a few reasons I'm sure. If I put myself in his flashing Diego shoes, I think the number one reason to flush the toilet would be for the rise it gets out of Mom and Dad. Then, maybe the sound it makes. Quite certainly it would have much to do with making an impact on the world.

I can almost hear him thinking, "I did that. I flushed the toilet! Why is Dad yelling at me from the other room? Is it time for oatmeal? Wait until he sees how I unraveled the entire toilet paper roll all over the floor. It takes him a long time to roll it back up. What are those shapes on the floor? I only know ovals, triangles, circles, stars, moons, hearts, diamonds and I get mixed up between squares and rectangles sometimes. I would count the number of sides but I don't always understand when to stop counting and numbers end at twenty anyway and then Dad starts over again. I want to go outside. I want to push my truck up and down the driveway. I like the sound the plastic wheels make on the gravel. I'll just see how far I can push the truck into the street before Dad yells, "Stop!" I don't understand. Sometimes I get put in time out, sometimes I don't. Actually time out is not bad. Dad makes it fun! He puts a timer in front of me and it has numbers on it and it beeps after one minute. I can't touch it though. If I touch it Dad starts the number over and looks mad. Don't touch. But I want to touch it. No-No. I can't touch anything around here. I love to pull the drawer open and get things out of the trash. I put things in there too. I think Mom's shoe goes in the trash. What is this Starbucks cup doing in the trash? Mom and Dad drink coffee all the time. They like coffee. I wonder what it tastes like? Love it! Fabulous. Why is Dad checking my breath? Why is Dad laughing? I must be funny. I like to make Daddy laugh. I like to make Daddy get me. I like him to chase me. Nap? Did he just say nap? I'm not going to be locked up. I like my freedom! I can't get out since Mom put that netting over the top of my crib. I'll be trapped. Dad, I don't care that my stuffed animals are taking a nap. I don't believe you. Why don't they ever close their eyes? What can I do for a stay of execution? Diaper! If I say diaper Dad will lay me on that table. I don't like it, but it's better than prison. Dad is too fast. Powder! There that's nice. Like it! I feel this urge to rub my eyes. Put some powder on my chest too Dad. Wait! I need Desitin! No. Rock-a-bye! Sing me and rock me to sleep. What? Not right here by the crib. We're too close. Sit in the rocking chair. ROCKING CHAIR! Are you deaf? He's deaf. He can't hear me. I scream louder. Goodness! How did he manage to get me in the crib with all that flailing? He's zipping it. I'm doomed."

Charlie finally went to sleep. I listened to him talking over the monitor.

"Don't like it. Don't like it. Don't like it." He said.

I know for certain he did not like the chicken in his chicken pot pie. He spit each piece out. During lunch we practiced the alphabet on two different sets of flashcards. I drilled him on his shapes and colors. I introduced him to the beginner sight words, "did, do, ride, some, and on." We even studied phonics, "w", "ch", "bl", and "cr". Afterward, we practiced counting.

Today was Charlie's second week at playschool. It wasn't a full day. The children are being acclimated to the new routine. Next week will be a full length session from 9am to 1pm. Jill came with us.

"You're going to have fun today!" I said as we pulled out of the driveway. Charlie stared back at me in the rearview mirror. He chose a white shirt with pictures of balls on it; basketballs, baseballs, soccer balls and footballs. He didn't get to pick out his shorts.

"We're going to playschool!" I said.

"No!" He whined. "Home!"

I tried to think of something that might take his mind from the fear of being left by his parents for the day.

"You are going to see all your friends!"

Charlie quieted. Jill and I named all the ones we could recall. In the class of ten, there are only three boys.

"Children." Charlie said.

"That's right, you're going to play with other children."

When I hoisted Charlie to the teacher through the check-in window, he was screaming. Jill and I and the other parents walked to the other end of the building to a small soundproof room where the cries of our children could not be heard anymore. We were given a folder and instructed to sign up for two snack days and one party snack day. Easy enough. That was pretty much when my brain stopped working. For the next hour we were inundated with procedural goo. I wasn't sure whether this one was that one or that one was this one or which one was who, to use a Seussism. I don't know, I guess I just listened to everything that is going to happen in my son's day and I realized that I wouldn't be there. When the director said Charlie would have to sit in a chair with his food or not eat, I began to think he might starve. This little boy who I love so much and would die for, who loves flushing toilets and trash picking and pushing his truck up and down the driveway is going to enter the world today. I didn't think I would get emotional. It's just one day. Really it's only four hours. But for four hours I have to trust someone else to feed and teach and diaper and discipline and care for my Charlie. And some day four hours will be eight hours. Then one day will become three days and three days will become a week and soon the week will be filled with school and sports and girlfriends. I imagined him all grown up, speaking full sentences, becoming a plumber or trash man or truck driver and having his own life. Then I started to feel bad that sometimes I just take Charlie with me to the zoo or the museum or the park or for long runs or on bike rides to get it done. In sitting there I realized that my time with Charlie will become less and less.

With that in mind this afternoon, after his nap, we spent the day around the house. We played games together, read books, read a scratch and sniff book, we chased each other, I tossed and flipped him on the bed. I let him flush the toilet. I listened to the sound it made. It's a nice sound, the toilet flushing. Nothing is new in life. It's who you experience the same old with that makes all the difference.