why a hypothetical person works.
Picture this “hypothetical” scenario:
You leave work to pick up your hypothetical 8-year-old.
You speed walk 30 blocks and 5 avenues, in 34 degree weather, instead of taking the subway.
You do this because the subway was delayed underground the day before and it nearly made you late for after school pick up.
And the thought of being late for after school pick up puts shivers down your spine.
Aside from several new blisters (thanks Tory B.) and a rather strange interaction with a fellow pedestrian who appeared to be offended by the fact you were multitasking (apparently speaking to your mother on the phone is a crime), you get to school without incident.
You even get to school with time to spare and rejoice your hypothetical kid isn’t the last one there.
You’re ready for a hug or a happy “Hi Mama!”
Instead your kid could care less you’re there. Her first question is “What’s for dinner?”
It’s then you realize she’s more like her father than you originally thought.
She hands you her backpack, her latest art project (you’re guessing this is a misshapen turkey but don’t want to vocalize this thought in case you’re completely off base), her lunch box, her hat, and her umbrella.
As you juggle these items, in addition to your own purse, laptop, gloves, and coat, she trots off towards the school exit without a care in the world.
It’s then you realize, she is a clone of her father.
You get home.
You unload the 15 pounds of stuff you’re carrying.
You see your hypothetical husband and you wait for a happy “Hi Hypothetical Person! How was your day?”
Your husband looks up from his computer for a second to say hello. Then he goes back to work.
A second later he looks up again and asks, “What’s for dinner?”
And that’s when you realize you wish you were back at work.
Where people appreciate you.
And don’t ask you what’s for dinner.