Young parenthood's end

The brief, restful period between toddlerhood and teenagerhood -- when the kids can dress and entertain themselves well enough to let you use the toilet or get a couple hours' work done without posing any significant risk of creating physical destruction or psychological mayhem -- has abruptly ended in our house. It's in part because of what goes on in young minds and bodies, and in part because of what goes on in an erratic world. Not only do I find myself using absurd phrases like "urges" and "perfectly natural" in the same sentence, but today I'm experiencing a sense of fear unlike anything I've felt since 9/11.

Both kids grew suddenly sick over the weekend. Is it THE flu? We'll probably never know, since the health care system is making every effort not to find out. (Since doctors tell you to stay the freak away if you suspect flu, where are all these H1N1 statistics coming from anyway?) For the first time in my 13 years, four weeks and five days of parenthood, there is a bug on the loose that prefers youngsters to oldsters. For the first time, being alive is riskier for them than it is for me. It shouldn't be that way.

Right now my wife's out for a walk, I'm in my natural habitat in front of the Mac, and the kids are konked out in bed. We must hope that the week ends with them once again being the spunky ones and us, in comparison, lame.