At first glance they don't look like parents. In fact, they hardly look old enough to be out of high school. She looks like a party girl, all long arms and legs, short dress, cigarette, glitter eyeshadow. Wondering where her girlfriends are. He is sullen, long-faced, quiet. Greasy hair, old T-shirt and ratty looking jeans. Another cigarette. Other drugs, I wonder? These are my preconceived ideas.
Baby is all smiles. Not quite steady on his own feet in the moving train. Not quite talking. Ten months old, maybe. Too young to hold any preconceived ideas about his parents.
I wonder if they had planned to have a child. I look at their hands and notice no rings. Baby smiles at me and opens his mouth wide. I open mine in return. He sticks his tongue out. Right back at ya. Mum, the party girl who might not be a party girl after all, picks Baby up and holds him a while. Tells him he's cheeky. Daddy, still quiet and sullen looking, stands up and motions to take Baby in his arms. Sullen Daddy could be Involved Daddy. I smile. Baby reaches for the handstraps that standing passengers use to maintain their balance when the train lurches about. He grabs one in each hand, and with Daddy's help he begins to do pull-ups. Athletic Baby! The other passengers smile.
The train stops at Richmond Station and Mummy and Baby get off. Daddy sits back down. To any passengers just boarding, he looks like a typical sullen youth with greasy hair and old T-shirt and ratty jeans. Not like the usual idea (preconceived, of course) of a father.
Sometimes we choose to exhibit outward signs that tell others about ourselves. Sometimes we don't. Sometimes we simply can't. I ask, "Was that your son?" He nods in reply. "How old is he?" "He'll be one year on the 28th." I smile. "He's cute." Daddy acknowledges the compliment in a disinterested, matter-of-fact way. Just like a sullen youth. "He is, he's a gorgeous boy." But I think I might see a glint of pride in his eye.
I think about the lack of rings on Daddy and Mummy's hands. A sullen youth can be loving father. Maybe a devoted partner. With no identifying marks. How would someone with preconceived ideas know anything about it?
I finger the ring on my left hand. It tells people that I am somebody's husband. Where is the symbol that tells people I am a father? How can you tell by looking at me? Long-haired Asian, glasses, always wears polo shirts and tan pants. What sort of preconceived ideas do people have about me?
I want something to show others that I am also a Daddy, that I too have a gorgeous boy.