Thursday, April 12, 2007

Lines, Lines, and More Lines

When I was looking for a college to attend, one in California caught my eye. I was living in the Carolinas at the time and my parents said it was too far away. So I went to college in the Midwest and they moved to California.

On summer break I went to visit them in Orange County. One of the overarching impressions from my trip was that of lines. There were lines to get gas, to get on the interstate, and then to move on the interstate. There were lines at restaurants and grocery stores. There were lines everywhere.

I decided lines were not for me.

The other day I reached down and grabbed F.G.'s wrist and ankle and began to swing her back and forth. After a few swings I let go of her ankle and she landed on her feet and hurried to the back of the line. Yes, the line. In the 5.3 seconds of swinging, word went out to all corners of the house that dad was doing something fun with somebody. Now there were six waiting expectantly in line.

Given my shoulder issues, I had F.G. leave the back of the line. While I was pretty sure I could manage six swinging sessions without an ER run, I knew twelve was out of the question.

The other day we were eating ice cream at a local shop and Ed asked me to take a picture of her with Brutus. I obliged. Then came all of the rest.







Then there was the releasing of a turtle found earlier in the day. Only four this time. Evidently the mechanism that carries out the word that a line is forming is impeded by walls and two did not emerge from the house.





There are all of the other lines as well. Lines to wash hands before dinner and lines to brush teeth at night. Sometimes I issue an edict:

Notice: From this point forward if a child is waiting to wash his/her hands at a sink and there are three or more siblings in front of said child, said child shall be obligated to leave the line and find a different sink at which to wash his/her hands.

Having decided that lines were not for me and now living with lines in my own home is probably just further proof of God's sense of humor. It is just too bad it is at my expense.

2 comments:

Innocent Observer said...

I also hate lines! My children have been told that everyone must keep a five foot privacy buffer zone between themself and the bathroom door. So they of course try to line up at the five foot mark. hehe

In the morning, priority goes to the first ones down and dressed. At night, Mom gets to decide the order. Do not form a line!

CrazyD said...

A five foot privacy buffer - that is an idea that I have not thought of. In fact, this idea might be applicable in many other situations. I might have to go and pull out a can of paint to mark an arc around our bathroom doors.