Part of being a parent is being Coordinator of All Things. The goal, of course, is to teach your kids to be coordinator of their own crap, be it school equipment, play dates, lunches, birthday parties, and all that jazz.
First grade is clearly only the beginning. I am desperately hoping that by the time she graduates from high school Miss M will be qualified to coordinate herself. Maybe even when she gets a cell phone. No, I have no idea when that will be. But, as I told the blogmistress at The Mommy Guilt Blog, if I can’t surgically implant it so she won’t lose it, it is going to have to wait until she stops losing her pencil and water bottle every single day. That’s right. Every single school day.
Anyway. So part of being Coordinator means taking calls. Like social calls. For play invitations and such.
Take yesterday. The phone rang at 3:40.
(in Hebrew, small voice) “I don’t speak English.”
(switching to Hebrew) “Hi.”
“Can I speak to Miss M?”
“She’s not here right now.”
“Where is she?”
“She is in tzaharon (after school program). Who is this?”
“Who is this? [I was corrected here, because I asked in the feminine, and it was a gentleman caller. A six year old gentleman, which is why I was confused. Although I should have caught it back when he said he didn’t speak English.] It’s Uriel.”
“Hi, Uriel. She’s still at school.”
“When does tzaharon finish?”
“In about 20 minutes. At 4:00.”
“Can she come over then?”
“I don’t think so, not today. She needs to do her homework. And today we don’t have our car. You live in Dimri,* right?”
“After she does her homework can she come to play?”
“What about a day when we have our car? I will tell her that you called. Thank you for the invitation.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”
So now that he can track her movements to the precise minute, I hope that Uriel will invite Miss M to play another time. On a day when Israel Railways is not striking and Taxman takes the train. Of course.
* Walking distance, but not terribly close; I was working on work, plus cooking, plus cleaning.