Thursday, May 07, 2009

End of Days, wait, not THE end of days. Just the end of my son's exile from school due to the Hone None Flua.

Much as I love the little guy, I also dearly love his teachers who are with him every weekday from 8 AM to 3-ish, 'cause they're the ones who have the teaching materials and the lesson plans. All I had was The Great Muppet Caper (we returned Jungle Book 2, thank God. Even the little guy was asking me when I was going to return it.), a pack of 8 1/2 x 11 paper that we colored on (well, I colored on) and folded into paper airplanes , and, yesterday, an open Children's Museum that he insisted on riding his bike to, which would have been fine except I knew that he wasn't that great on the bike yet so I couldn't ride one of ours to accompany him. At least he knows enough to stop at the street corners and wait for me. An unexpected snag in the whole operation was the fool bike throwing off its chain on the trip to the museum and on the trip back home. Nothing like struggling to get a dirty, greasy bike chain back on under the Pontchartrain Expressway, let me tell you. This time, I truly welcomed the trip to the pool after 4 PM.

I soaked in the pool while the kid did his jumping in and climbing out routine, with his only break coming during the lifeguards' 10 minute break. No wonder he didn't want to get up this morning.

Then again, he never wants to get up on school days. Perhaps if they pushed his school start time to 9:30 AM...wishful thinking, I know.

So today is the first day I've been able to actually check out my morning paper, and the first headline concerning Nagin's Greg Meffert-sponsored trip to Jamaica being "a blur" to him made me want to wring the Walking Id's neck. A trip to a tropical isle in first-class seats, even if I were completely freaked out by the events of 8-29-05, would be a godsend and something to remember for certain. I'd expect my son to say such a thing about our trip to New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island when he was two, because he was so young, I'm sure the week-long jaunt we took was a blur to him. The only thing the kid might be able to recall would be when we walked on the sea floor at the Hopewell Rocks, if anything.

Just saying...there's a reason why I call our mayor the Walking Id: his answers sometimes to queries are no better than the ones my single-digit aged son gives, and, though my little guy is getting more considerate of others as he gets older, there is still some strong inner id motivating some of the things he does. He's a kid, still. Vigilance and constant reinforcement of basic consideration for others in one's actions are still the keys there. From such reinforcement comes moments like the one at the museum yesterday, when the kid held the elevator door open and asked me to wait as our fellow elevator-mates, a mama with a kid in a stroller, exited the elevator first. I mean, wow.

Who maintained such vigilance over the actions of the schmo in the Mayor's Office? Certainly not the man's family. The flood-shocked public has consistently had its butt kicked by many other matters, sadly. Whatever other advisors he's surrounded himself with have simply helped feed whatever delusions he might still be harboring concerning his so-called "legacy", and if, by some insane stretch of the imagination, this man isn't crazy like a fox, but simply crazy, his crime might be at the most a misguided loyalty for these people who tell him what he wants to hear and send him to Hawaii and Jamaica to ease his blurred mind.

In any case, we do deserve better than this schmuck.

But, do we really believe that we deserve better?

'Cause if we do, that belief is gonna go a long way towards selecting someone next year who will actually serve this disgruntled, recovering public.

Update, 2:16 PM: The Gambit wants to know: what's your blur?

Anudder update, 5-11: For other reasons on why the Walking Id's blur is appalling in a public servant, go read.

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