Chivalry Is Not Dead
Arriving at the outdoor swimming pool with my 8-year-old on this sweltering 96 degree day, I was relishing the opportunity to melt in the shade, all alone for once finishing a favorite Jenny Lawson memoir, while my son experimented swimming with his new birthday snorkel set. Unfortunately, summer camp kids and families with the same plan to cool off overtook the pool. Surveying the landscape, there was nary a chair in sight for this weary, anything-but-lazy mother who had just finished canoeing 5 miles in windy conditions with my 13-year-old for 'extreme forced family fun' (#FFF) on the Willamette River. I considered the hard swimming deck cement my consolation prize in motherhood.
Spotting a chair near the elementary school summer campers sitting on their towels playing cards, I eagerly asked the camp counselor if it was taken. "Yes," she replied, "the boy who can't swim sits there." Dumbfounded, I struggled with this logic while the chair remained unoccupied. Desperate to have back support and solitude in the shade, I suggested, "But he's not sitting there now and can't the kids sit on the ground?" With all the confidence of a college-age camp counselor, she promptly shut me down insisting the non-swimming boy was using it. Of all the nerve I thought to myself, yet proceeded to calmly inform her that I would be back for the chair in twenty minutes if it remained unoccupied. Shaking my head, I recalled my youth when seats were voluntarily abandoned for elders (not that I'm old).
Just then my 8-year-old sauntered up carrying a white plastic chair above his head as I was preparing to sit on the hard cement. Shocked, I never would've guessed he'd voluntarily assist his mother rather than immediately jumping in the pool. "I love you and your thoughtfulness!" I bear hugged him; thrilled he found a solution for his tired mother without prompting. (Of course I ensured the scene was loud enough and in full view of the haughty camp counselor.) Thankfully chivalry is not dead!
Perched nearby in the shade, I surveilled that empty chair surreptitiously, my eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Snapping a few discreet iPhone pictures I smirked at my spy tactics as I accumulated evidence of the counselor's assholery. Ironically, in the span of 30 minutes that the summer campers remained at the pool, the chair remained unoccupied as the young counselor relaxed in the chair in front of it. Mind you, had an elderly individual approached I would've grabbed that empty chair instantly bestowing it in a demonstrative offering of kindness so desperately needed these days!
On the flip side, I can only surmise the counselor's inability to view me as an authoritative woman meant I looked youthful in my ponytail, ball cap and running clothes. At least that's the story I'm sticking with. Perhaps it's time to continue my esteem boost and challenge being carded in my getup!
As for my son, I'm beyond proud the little dude was so thoughtful in my hour of need. There is hope for that wise guy after all! Cheers to raising respectful human beings, it remains our most important charge as parents. Chivalry is not dead and he just earned himself the caramel I had hidden for myself. I know full well he deserves it more than me if I am to keep up this youthful facade! 😉
Spotting a chair near the elementary school summer campers sitting on their towels playing cards, I eagerly asked the camp counselor if it was taken. "Yes," she replied, "the boy who can't swim sits there." Dumbfounded, I struggled with this logic while the chair remained unoccupied. Desperate to have back support and solitude in the shade, I suggested, "But he's not sitting there now and can't the kids sit on the ground?" With all the confidence of a college-age camp counselor, she promptly shut me down insisting the non-swimming boy was using it. Of all the nerve I thought to myself, yet proceeded to calmly inform her that I would be back for the chair in twenty minutes if it remained unoccupied. Shaking my head, I recalled my youth when seats were voluntarily abandoned for elders (not that I'm old).
Just then my 8-year-old sauntered up carrying a white plastic chair above his head as I was preparing to sit on the hard cement. Shocked, I never would've guessed he'd voluntarily assist his mother rather than immediately jumping in the pool. "I love you and your thoughtfulness!" I bear hugged him; thrilled he found a solution for his tired mother without prompting. (Of course I ensured the scene was loud enough and in full view of the haughty camp counselor.) Thankfully chivalry is not dead!
Perched nearby in the shade, I surveilled that empty chair surreptitiously, my eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Snapping a few discreet iPhone pictures I smirked at my spy tactics as I accumulated evidence of the counselor's assholery. Ironically, in the span of 30 minutes that the summer campers remained at the pool, the chair remained unoccupied as the young counselor relaxed in the chair in front of it. Mind you, had an elderly individual approached I would've grabbed that empty chair instantly bestowing it in a demonstrative offering of kindness so desperately needed these days!
On the flip side, I can only surmise the counselor's inability to view me as an authoritative woman meant I looked youthful in my ponytail, ball cap and running clothes. At least that's the story I'm sticking with. Perhaps it's time to continue my esteem boost and challenge being carded in my getup!
As for my son, I'm beyond proud the little dude was so thoughtful in my hour of need. There is hope for that wise guy after all! Cheers to raising respectful human beings, it remains our most important charge as parents. Chivalry is not dead and he just earned himself the caramel I had hidden for myself. I know full well he deserves it more than me if I am to keep up this youthful facade! 😉
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