At first, we thought that a 6 year old kid could never wear a mask all day. And then, yes. He doesn’t like it, nobody likes it. But he took the fold, everyone took the fold. I told him he could lower his mask when he was walking down the street and there was no one around. He keeps it anyway. The habit.
School ends at 18 p.m. To respect the curfew, we would have to instantly teleport home. We hurry, we arrive home at 18:07 p.m. with an absurd feeling of guilt. Once warm, we do the homework, we put the used masks in the washing machine and we slip those of the next day in the binder.
– Do you want the white one or the one with the stripes for tomorrow morning?
We consult the correspondence book. Is there a word from the principal to announce a new case of Covid in the classroom? How many times do they close the school?
Being a parent during a pandemic means dealing with uncertainty. Do I register my son at the leisure center for the holidays, knowing that the mixing of children from different establishments increases the risk of contamination and that we have to go see the grandparents the following week? We have to anticipate the scenarios, construct different hypotheses. The football activity
Saturday, is it maintained or not? You have to keep abreast of the evolution of the rules, which change often.
– How about we go to the library this weekend? Wait, I don’t know anymore, are the libraries open at the moment? Too bad, we’re going to the playground. Did you take your mask?
Shit, we have to go home, we forgot the hydroalcoholic gel!
These are all parenting issues. The child is weary but not worried.
– Tired of the coronavirus, I’m going to kill it! He complains when his soccer match or school trip is canceled, but he sees the advantages of the situation. Mom doesn’t come home on time because mom works at home. He easily accommodated barrier gestures. No more adults who come to get drunk to ask for a kiss.
The Child, above all, has a dream: the re-containment with the closure of schools. He remembers spring 2020, when he didn’t have to get up early, the sun was shining, mom and dad looked after him all day and it was thought the whole virus thing would be over soon. . Maybe his dream will be realized by the time you read these lines. I warned the Child: winter confinement in the gray, it might be less fun, especially when it’s the third time. He shrugs his shoulders. He is 6 years old, he adapts to everything. All that, for him, now, is normal.