“Why can’t we kill all the mosquitoes?”
I’m on the bus with my kids, talking about animals, when Alice asks me that.
“I’m not sure, I think they must have some sort of use,” I say.
“Can you look it up?”
I do.
“Sorry to tell you, baby, but it looks like we can’t. It says here they’re ‘important as a food source for other animals, for pollination and because their larvae filter organic waste in water…’”
“I hate them. I really wish we could kill them. ”
“Well, if you think about it, animals probably think the same thing about us. We’re not really needed, the world wouldn’t miss us if we were gone.”
“Hm. Ok.”
We’re quiet for a moment, then a guy sitting near us on the bus says, “Excuse me, sir?”
“Yes…?”
“These are your children, right?”
I laugh, and say, “Well, it would be a bit weird if they weren’t.”
“I guessed so. I just wanted to tell you what a great job you’re doing having conversations like this. You’re a great dad.”
He extends his hand, and I shake it. Then he gets off the bus, and walks away.
Ending 1
I often doubt what I’m doing as a father. I often feel I’m just repeating the same mistakes, and giving my kids ammunition to talk about in therapy when they’re older.
But if a random stranger who heard me talk about mosquitoes for a couple of minutes thinks I’m doing great…
That must be true, right? Right? 😅
Ending 2
I know that a compliment from a random stranger, based on a conversation that lasted only a couple of minutes, shouldn’t really matter.
It shouldn’t tell me anything I don’t already know.
But, somehow, it does. And I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
Ending 3
I turn around, and my kids are looking pretty surprised with that exchange.
“See? Random guy thinks I’m a great dad,” I say.
“You are a great dad, I tell you that all the time!” Alice says.
“Yeah, but you’re 9, you still have a pea-sized brain, what good is that to me?”
“Dad!”
“What about me?” Olivia says. “Can I tell you what I think?”
“Nah, you’re 6, that’s even worse.”
We get off the bus, and we’re all laughing.
Then I bump into one, then the other, and they bump me back.
I’m not sure if that random guy is right, but in moments like these…
It definitely feels like it.
And the lesson is…
To be honest, I don’t really know; I couldn’t quite decide how to finish the story, so I decided to write down all the possible endings, and see if some insight hit me–and it didn’t 😅
Well, apart from this:
Stories are not perfectly discrete moments, they don’t always have a specific beginning or end.
I could’ve started earlier than I did (we were already talking about animals) and end it at the mosquito conversation
I could’ve picked ending 1 or 2, which are different things I thought and felt pretty much at the same time
I could’ve picked ending 3, which is what happened right after
Or I could’ve kept going
The decision will come down to what point I want to make, and what feeling I want to leave my audience with. They can all work, just not in every occasion, or for every audience.
It's like parenting: you can’t always be fun, and you can’t always be strict.
The secret is knowing the right time for each.
Yesterday, when this happened…
I think I got it spot on 🤘
-Francisco
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