Can I pet your dog and also how's your sex life?
Last night we were walking down Lawrence and this little girl—six years old, maybe?—came up to us, asking to pet the dog. This happens all the time and we see it as a learning moment—show the kids how to treat dogs, dogs how to treat kids, grown-ups how to be patient with both, etc. Mojo knows this drill: he sits, waiting patiently as Christopher and I explain how you hold out your hand so he can sniff it first, how you move slowly so you don’t startle him, how you rub him gently on his back and most importantly: “You always ask the dog’s owner if you can pet it FIRST,” we say. “Because some dogs don’t LIKE to be pet.”
“Like how I asked?” she asks, big eyes, hopeful smile.
“Like how you asked,” we say. “You did just right.”
She has more questions: is Mojo a boy or a girl? How old is he? What does he like to eat? and then, in the exact same voice she’s asked everything else, she looks up at Christopher and me and says, “Do you two sleep in the same bed?”
I’m suddenly wondering where this kid’s mother is. We look around for some adult-like person within eyeshot—no one. And if you’re not familiar with our particular block of Lawrence Avenue (that stretch between Broadway and the Lake), it’s not the sorta place you’d want your six-year-old hanging alone (like you’d want your six-year-old hanging alone anywhere in the city. Like you’d want your six-year-old hanging alone ANYWHERE).
“Where’s your mother?” I ask, and she points vaguely behind us to a long row of three-flats. “You should maybe go home,” I say gently. “She’s probably wondering where you are.”
“Nope,” the girl says cheerfully. “So do you? Sleep in the same bed?”
“We do,” I say, and then I say, “We’re married,” as though I need to justify myself to this child.
“If you WEREN’T married, would you sleep in the same bed?” she asks, and there’s an urgency to the question, a reason behind it, and I wonder what’s going on in her house: who’s sleeping with who and who says it’s wrong and who says it’s right and where does this kid go with her questions? To strangers on the street!—and I’d love to make some sweeping statement about how I’ll always be there for my kids, they’ll never have to get their answers from other sources but you KNOW that’s not always possible. I remember tons of things I never went to my parents about and they were GREAT, their doors were always open and I always knew that, but it’s part of being a kid or a teenager or whatever, right? To figure things out on your own? From books or teachers or movies or the internet or strangers on the street or your friends and there’s positives and negatives attached to all that stuff and how all this effects how I’ll raise my own kids I have NO IDEA but I do know this: MY SIX-YEAR-OLD WILL NEVER BE OUT ALONE ON LAWRENCE AVENUE and as I’m thinking about all this stuff Christopher kneels down to the girl’s eye-level and says, “Lots of people have different opinions about this question. You should go home now and talk to your mom or your dad or your gramma and see what they think, first,” and then he takes my hand and tells Mojo to come and the three of us walk home.