A week in images: day 33

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February 28, 2013 by allsho

My glasses: I don’t really need them.

I bought them when I got my permanent position as a teacher, hoping that wearing them I would feel a bit more… a bit older, probably.

And the other reason I wear them is that if I don’t, I can’t discern if people greeting me on the road are actually greeting me so that I can measure my reaction and greet back without afterwards seeing (or suspecting) a surprised look on the other’s face and the omnipresent question: what does this guy want now? or not walk past the greeter without suspecting (or actually seeing) the question arise between the eyes of the ignored bearer of friendliness: what on earth did I do that doesn’t he greet me?

So, basically that’s it. I can drive without – legally, I mean. I can read without – well, my problem is that I’m short-sighted, I’m probably too young for long-sighted. I can do everything without them.

And therefore, my children know that once I’m at home, I don’t wear them. As simple as that. And every single time I forget to take them off: “daddy, why are you wearing your glasses?”, is #2’s traditional line.

Then I usually take them off and place them on one of three or four surfaces in the house where I know I normally place my glasses, and are the first three or four spots where I go looking for them whenever I need to go out again.

But then there are exceptions. For example, this evening I sat down in my armchair, and #2 was there, asking me why I did it again. “Oh yes, dear, I forgot”. And he holds his tiny hand out to me. Well, what do I do? I give him my glasses.

Wrong. I always fail to remember to accompany that with precise instructions. Go ahead, there, on that shelf, yes, right there. Great, thanks.

No, I didn’t.

It took me about 40 mins to find out what he did with them, worried about the integrity of the lenses, fearing they could have stepped on them, shoved them in the lego bucket, used them to hammer on the xylophone, dropped them in the toilet, you know, all the worst thoughts you get when you realize you left something valuable with someone who doesn’t know what fragile means.

And eventually there they are. Not at the right place, but at the right place all the same, as my little man chose well.

He’s growing up as well.

Home sweet home, today.

Home sweet home, today.


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