Fridays, we both take the kids to school, rather than to the bus stop, since the school kicks off the day with a community-wide meeting. Today, after leaving school, we stopped by The Cheese Board, our venerated neighborhood collective cheese shop/bakery.
The man in line in front of us turned around at the sound of my voice, and smiled.
“You’re– you’re so-and-so’s mom.” And then he saw my partner and adds “S.”
“Yes! And you’re Keiko’s dad.” D.
I might have split a hair or two about how in truth I’m more so-and-so’s parent, really; she calls me Baba; we’re naming the liminal space between the falsely dichotemized poles of mother and father, but still, I totally get the shorthand thing – who has time for Althusser before your morning coffee, you know?
Neither of us had had a sip of coffee yet, so that part stayed in my brain.
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