Today during my lunch break I went to Toronto City Hall to pay my property taxes. Unfortunately, I didn't realize until it was too late that the large public square I had to cross to get there was hosting an event called "Toronto Kids' Tuesdays", so said square was completely enmoppetted, or beurchined, or whatever the proper term is that means "full of small persons with poor impulse control". Since a not-inconsiderable part of my own self image is wrapped up in being the most immature person in whatever group of people I find myself included, being around that many children makes me feel unpleasantly adult. Ick.

I also noticed that there seems to be a big trend towards day care uniforms these days. I guess that the day care people have found that it's easier to keep track of their charges in a crowded public space if they're all dressed in identical brightly-colored t-shirts or vests. The horrifying aspect of this is that there seemed to be no consideration given to what looked good on any particular child - kids who were obvious winters, for example, were given no option whatsoever to opt out if their day care center's chosen t-shirt color was safety orange. By the time I had crossed the square, I was almost in tears from the pathos of these small children being subjected to such wanton and unthinking sartorial cruelty.

If I ever start a day care center (probably not a good idea, given my aforementioned urge to be the most immature person in the room - within fifteen minutes of the departure of the last parent, my poor day care center probably will have degenerated into something from the last third of Lord of the Flies[*] with yours truly leading the pack, wearing nothing but finger paint and glitter while some unusually mature five-year-old scolds me, "Mister Elliott, mommy says it's naughty to put Pla-Doh[TM] there!" - but let's just pretend for a moment that my hypothetical child care career is actually a workable concept rather than an inevitable demonstration that human civilization is just a thin and fragile veneer over our ineluctable animal natures), I'll definitely include a prominent announcement on the cover of all my brochures stating, "I will never dress your child unflatteringly!"

I'll make a bundle.


[*] I couldn't mention Lord of the Flies with out mentioning something that really bothers me about that book, but it was too parenthetical to include in that already parenthetical aside. When I first read LotF in school, I remember being very disturbed indeed - not by any of the parts that are supposed to be disturbing, but by the fact that Piggy was said to be myopic (and he obviously was nearsighted based on the descriptions of his ineptness without his glasses) which meant that his glasses were diverging lenses. You need converging lenses to set fires with sunlight, which pretty much destroys one of LotF's key plot elements. I really think that William Golding should have known better since this little myopia factoid is not exactly uncommon knowledge: I discovered it myself at the age of nine when I got my first pair of eyeglasses and empirically determined that they were entirely useless when it came to frying ants. If I ever got a tattoo, I think I would get one on my right buttcheeck that said "Piggy was not hyperopic!" The only thing keeping me from doing so is that the tattoo artist probably wouldn't spell "hyperopic" correctly and then people in the gym locker room would point at my butt and laugh at the misspelling. People pointing at my butt and laughing is really not what my already fragile ego needs.