But All the Other Kids Get To!

In truth vs. myth form, here's a list of everything you cool parents apparently let your children do on a regular basis, while our poor deprived angels live with two new dads who show them the overall leniency of a P.O.W. work camp.

All the other kids get to wear fingernail polish, copious amounts of makeup and purple-colored hair streaks to school in the first grade.
Myth.

Justuce has, for some time now, been trying to convince us that all the girls in her summer day camp, and now her first grade class, come to school dressed up like Roxie Hart in the ventriloquist number from Chicago. While I can appreciate her imaginative assessment of "everybody" actually meaning "one or two girls who are going to be in really big trouble when they get home," I'm fairly certain her number count is a little off.

All the other kids get to climb the 15-foot wall at the Springs Preserve playground and none of their parents worry they might fall off and break their legs or die.
Myth.

Even though the bordering wall of the Springs Preserve play area is uncommonly steep, enticingly steep, a sign below it clearly says, "No Climbing or Playing on the Wall." Justin, not exactly an ace with his sight words, can pick out approximately "No" on that sign, which doesn't go very far because he appears not to process that word in any other context to begin with. He will therefore tear up that wall like Spider-Man on the heavy stuff, all the time insisting all the other kids get to do it too. I now refer to this wall in my mind as the What the Hell Could the Architects Possibly Have Been Thinking Wall. That deathtrap is like leaving a bowl of Snickers on your doorstep on Halloween night with a sign that says, "Please take only one." Ha! Fat chance, skippy.

All the other kids get to wear mismatched socks.
True.

Turns out wearing mismatched socks or even mismatched flip-flops is kind of trendy right now. Being ancient and childless until recently, Adam and I were not aware that fashion update had authentically slipped in under the wire, but we're totally fine with it. Justuce got to mix up her socks for day camp this summer and it didn't raise any red flags. She's a little pissed she can't do it at school this year, but the dress code says white socks only, so she's being a good sport about it. But if you spot our kids out in public on the weekends and their socks or shoes don't match, don't worry about our aging eyes or lack of attention. We're fully aware they're a card or two shy of a full house, it's just a carefully-crafted fashion compromise to get them out of the house and into the frigging car.

All the other kids get to bring balloons to school.
Myth.

I'm afraid I'm to blame for this one. I started giving the kids balloons in the car. Justin is sensory seeking, which means he needs to constantly touch things to get the squirmy-worms out of his system, or he's liable to walk up and pop you one in the nuts. Nothing personal, he just needs to keep his hands busy. So, I started blowing up balloons and giving them to the kids for sensory input. Ballooons, after all, are really cool. They squeak, they squeeze, they thump with a satisfying vibration. They also fly out the window and scare the shit out of Adam when they pop behind his head, but that's a bug we'll fix on another day. On the rare occasion they do make it all the way to school dropoff, they do not get to go in backpacks.

All the other kids get to go barefoot in the McDonald's play area, or wear their shoes in the McDonald's play area.
True.

This should not be true, in fact, it's kind of gross that it is true...but the kids are correct on this one. Theoretically, kids are supposed to put their shoes in the little cubbies, keep their socks on, and then go play in McDonald's Dirt Place to their hearts' content. Trouble is, kids forget. Parents don't care. We live in the desert, land of sandals and flip-flops, so most of our kids entering the golden arches aren't wearing socks to begin with. And flip-flop bottoms are black as night because at 108 degrees, parking lot tar has an odd way of sticking with you. Barefoot or socked, our kids come out of McDonald's Play Place looking like their feet spent four days down in the coal mines with Loretta, Doo, and the rest of the Lynns from Butcher Holler.

All the other kids get to bring water bottles to school.
True.

We were a little skeptical about this one. Justuce and Justin go to a private school, not because of any financial ability on our part by any stretch of the imagination, but thanks to the grace of God, a very generous scholarship committee and some amazingly caring and involved Jewish community organizations who put them there. It's a great school, a Jewish school, a kosher school, and kids aren't supposed to bring any of their own food, drinks, snacks, gum, or anything edible/drinkable in or out, because it might unkosher and therefore stink up the joint. (Except for Other-Justin who has food allergies and has special dispensation to bring his own lunch, and is therefore spoken of in the hushed, awed tones reserved for the mythical and the legendary). So when J&J told us all the other kids got to bring in refillable water bottles from home, we were cautious, but I'll be darned, a note came home and it turns out they can. Those bottles also come in handy in the park after school when Justin rolls in the grass with his shirt off and gets itchy, which drives him insane. When I send him off to school with his full water bottle, I almost want to say, "Save some for your crazy grass itch later."

All the other kids get to stay up until midnight watching nine or ten episodes of "A Pup Named Scooby Doo" on school nights.
Myth.

As much as I'd like to help Justin clear out his Tivo in-basket, no.

All the other kids get to live their lives quietly, without their dad embarassing them twice a week in a blog.
Ashley, yes. But it's the price you pay for your flights of fancy, kids. It's either this or sodium pentathol in your Cheerios.

Hey, wouldn't it be cool if Flintstones made a chewable for that?