Daddy Day Care

"Now I work down at the carwash
Where all it ever does is rain"
- Bruce Springsteen, "Downbound Train"
I got up early yesterday morning and walked up to my son's school. I got up there just in time to meet another dad who was there to set up for the annual fifth grade car wash. It's something that I do. Maybe I got it from my father, who loved to be part of things, especially when I was in high school. Maybe I stay involved to ward off any possible hypocrisy on my part when I start to grumble about parental involvement at the school where I teach. Maybe I do it because I'm a nice guy.
Whatever the reason, I stood there in a puddle of dirty water, staring at the hoods of a seemingly endless stream of cars, spraying off the soapy water that a mass of enthusiastic but periodically attention-challenged fifth graders had scrubbed onto the surfaces they could reach. There was a pause, and a mother of three (two of which had moved on to middle and high school) stepped up to me and asked, "Feeling a little wistful?"
I told her that I was feeling a little waterlogged, but not necessarily wistful. It wasn't until much later in the day, as I was coiling up the hoses and stacking orange road cones that I really was approaching the point of no return. This was my swan song, my one and only fifth grade car wash. The Harvest Festival was winding down on the playground behind me, and I had missed all but the load-out. One of the other dads offered me a shot at bobbing for one last apple. Already soaked through, I figured I had nothing to lose. I stuck my head in the bucket, bit down hard, and applied just the right amount of suction. When I came up for air, apple in my mouth, it was time to carry tables back into the auditorium. And I felt a little wistful.