Random chatting fathers

The other day I was taking the train home with the girl. She didn't want to be in the sling much that day, so she did most of her own walking and, on the train, she sat in her own seat, opposite me. Despite, or because, it being the two of us in a pair of bench seats for 5, no one sat in the other 3 seats, even though it was rush hour.

At the first stop, a man carrying an 18 month old boy in a sling got on the train, and immediately decided that this would be a good place to sit. We quickly got to talking, mostly because the girl started saying Bæ bæ bæ over and over as soon as she saw the baby in his arms.

It was nice finding a kindred spirit to share the ride home. He'd spent his afternoon with his son at the Museum of Childhood. I'd spent the afternoon with the girl at the Museum of London. He extracted his lad from his sling and plunked him down next to the girl. Despite being practically the same age (she's 19 months old), there was a marked difference between them. He was bigger than her, but quite shy. She was quite interested and babbling to him, with the occasional pointing or poking. He sat there looking a bit tired and droopey eyed barely registering her, while we exchanged stories about what each museum does well and what other good places we've taken our kids lately.

I'd never done that before – meeting a fellow father and just gabbing away about fun things to do with children. I mean, I do that with friends all the time, but it's the total stranger part that's new to me. Usually with complete strangers it's What a cute baby or other suchness about the child. I suppose what I liked about this is it was about parenting. Not how the baby looks or what they do, but here's some fun things you can do while being a part of their life.

Earlier that day, in the museum, I spent the bulk of my time just following the girl around as she walked from exhibit to exhibit, looking under the tables, walking circles around models in glass cases, taking guides and handing them to bemused staff and pointing to a taxidermied rabbit and saying Cat!

One of my favourite parts was in the 18^th century section where they have artefacts about half a foot under the floor covered clear glass, so you can look down and see various bits and pieces of daily life from back then. It's sturdy glass, so you can walk over it too.

So I did. I, in clear view of the girl, walked on this glass, at a slow pace so she'd see what I was doing, but without breaking my stride. I always walk on glass bridges whenever I can, because it feels so wrong and so mundane at the same time. The girl followed, but with very hesitant steps. The first step onto the glass was in complete disbelief that it was possible to do this. Each subsequent step clearly said It feels solid, but all my instincts say that can't be. She never quite got comfortable walking on the glass, but at least she started getting use to the fact that it was evidently possible to do so. Every step was measured and slow, and stepping back onto opaque land was as hesitant as stepping onto the glass had been.

I consider this one of my jobs as parent. To dash her world view. To show her how her instincts can be plain wrong. I'm kind of hoping it will just give her a better class of instincts when she's older.