The Frustration.

     God didn't create Hell, the DMV did. Somehow, the slip of paper with the registration number for my car got lost. Yes I got it, I knew it was important, and I know there's no way to replace the number if it gets lost, but it got lost anyway. So two hours into butt numbing, mind destroying, patience testing waiting, B231 has yet to pop up on the screen, announcing my freedom. In the middle of all this, a mother and child find their way to the seat next to mine. Not only did he sit next to me, he sat real close to me, too close. It was inside my personal space bubble. Well, it was like this:
     Have you ever been standing in line, usually at the movie theater's snack area, and some doofus behind you is standing so close you can tell when they breathe? Personally, it creeps me out and I try to "accidentally" step backward and find a toe. In the flip-flop land of San Diego (both shoes & politicians, but in this case, the shoes) that usually get's the point across, I get my personal space back, and hopefully no one gets tazed or maced. Everyone's happy. Except for my wife. Who keeps telling me that one day I'm going to get tazed or maced for literally stepping on people's toes.
     There are just certain things that annoy me to no end; one of which is the invasion of personal space by complete strangers who never got an invite. People who kick the back of my seat: not okay with that. People who pass gas in the middle of class because they drink too much coffee in the morning and then they blame it on the heavy-set guy next to them: I'm okay with that, but it still shouldn't be done... It would be natural for me to get hacked off at the kid, in the purgatory known as the DMV, touching me and getting all up in my business.
     But the weirdest thing happened. I just thought it was cute. It wasn't like there was an initial sense of frustration that had to be repressed, or a desire to throttle him that I had to channel into humor, I was genuinely charmed. And this has been a pattern for the last few months. Babies and children doing things that would normally warrant a scornful look on my part are now affirmations of their innocence and youth.
     I've worked with kids of all ages in classroom settings and I don't let them get away with much. They know I'm strict, but they also learn I'm fair and will listen to their side of the story. I earn their respect because I respect them. This does NOT mean I think everything they do is cute, it just means I respect them enough to give them an opportunity to sink their own ship; which they usually do. But I never thought the stuff they pulled was cute. That is, until my wife got pregnant.
     Maybe there is some innate mechanism in my psychology that turns up patience chemicals when a baby is coming. If not, we'd probably have to have a lot of children because we might start eating our young. My dad told me that after he had kids he was able to hear the phone ring while he was in the shower. Or he knew when one of us was getting into something because he heard the cellophane unwrapping three blocks down. As if he suddenly lost one ability, and all the remaining ones were heightened. Is it possible for a father's sense of frustration to be dulled, and the efficacy of attentive abilities is increased? I really hope that's true. For that matter, so does my kid.