I can’t remember the last time I actually finished a conversation with another parent. I’ve found myself in a number of Bean-related social events lately and I’ve been meeting a lot of cool new people. At least I think they’re cool. They seem really great when I start talk to them. It’s all that small talk. You know…What do you do? Where do you live? Can you believe how freakin’ hot it is in the Valley? McCain said what? But I never seem to be allowed to get to the meat of a conversation before one of us, usually me, is disrupted by their kid.
It typically goes like this:
Potentially Cool Adult: Wait until you hear this story. You won’t believe it.
DGB: Awesome. Tell me.
PCA: It started three days ago. I had a lottery ticket and a rented ’69 Ford Mustang…
The Bean: Dada! Dada!
DGB: Hey buddy. Wait just a second, okay? Daddy’s talking.
The Bean: Dada…I want some water, pleeeeeeaaaaaase!
(You can’t resist a kid with good manners.)
DGB: Water? Really?
(Checks sippy cup. Yup. Empty. Can’t refuse the kid water, right?)
Despite the best of intentions, the opportunity for the rest of that story never comes. I leave to get the kid water, which because it’s usually not my house, entails tripping over the myriad of toys along the way, locating the kitchen, trying to figure out if they use a Brita pitcher, have a water tap hidden somewhere inside the fridge or LA’s best from the tap (now with chlorine!), going back out, locating the Bean, giving him the water and than having him ask for a snack, which starts the whole adventure over again.
By the time I get back to Potentially Cool Adult, the moment has passed. They’re now either attending to their own kid or engaged in some conversation with somebody else.