We reach Candace’s classroom, and the top half of the Dutch door is open so we can see in over the bottom half. Candace is sitting on a colorful rug, reading to the kids. They sit in a semicircle, fanned around her, listening intently while she finishes a page. It’s a cute scene and I wouldn’t think anything of it, except for the fact that she’s completely wrapped herself up in toilet paper.
“When an Egyptian king died, his body was made into a mummy in a complicated process that took 70 days!”
“70 days?!” one of the kids shouts, as if it’s the longest amount of time he’s ever heard.
“Doesn’t that seem like forever? It is quite a long process. But listen,” she returns to reading, “mummies have lasted thousands of years and continue to fascinate us today.”
“I want to be a mummy!” Briggs declares, jumping to his feet.
“Me too!” A girl jumps up to stand beside him.
“I don’t blame you. I do look quite cool, don’t I?” Candace says, standing to spin in a circle.
Some of her toilet paper ensemble falls to the floor, but there’s still a ton left behind. The kids must have spent half the day spinning her into it. She even has it tucked up around her face and covering her hair.
I smile when she looks over and spots Erin and me standing at the door.
“Oh! Drat. It’s pick-up time! All right everyone, let’s pick up our reading pillows and toss them in a pile over here near the wall. And then Margaux and Briggs, come on, let’s get your lunch sacks.”
She has a hard time walking across the room with the toilet paper wrapped around her legs.
Briggs comes running over to the door, peering up at me. “Uncle Logan, I’m going to be a mummy like Ms. Candace!”
“Cool, bud.”
“Can you wrap me up in toilet paper when we get to your house?”
“Sure thing,” I say, reaching down to ruffle his hair.
“Here you go,” Candace says, coming over with lunchboxes for Margaux and Briggs. “Everything should be in there. I’ve washed out the containers already. Erin, Margaux ate all of her couscous and veggies for lunch, but she didn’t go down for a nap today. She insisted she didn’t need one so I let her read quietly with a few books—”
“What?” Erin groans and cuts her off. “You know how much that throws off our entire day. Now she’s going to be cranky for the whole afternoon.” She reaches out to snatch the lunchbox from Candace and then looks to me as if I’m going to back her up on this. What the fuck?
Candace’s smile falls. “I know. I did try to have her lie down, but she must have been too energized. She did rest for a bit when I rubbed her back.”
“You see—that’s just it! You coddle her, so it’s no surprise she doesn’t want to go to sleep. At home, we turn out the lights and shut the door. She goes to sleep just fine.”
“Hey, I think you should maybe ease up a bit.”
Erin’s eyes slice to me like I’m Public Enemy No. 1 now. “Are you kidding me? Now I’m getting advice from you?”
“Mommy, Ms. Candace did tell me to lie down—”
Erin yanks the door open and grabs Margaux’s hand tightly. “I don’t want to hear it. You have Mandarin lessons this afternoon and piano. How are you going to concentrate now? Hmm?”
They wander off down the hall as Erin continues berating her young daughter, and I feel sorry for the kid.
I shake my head in disbelief as I look back to Candace. “That was…”
I’m at a loss for words.
Candace only shrugs and tries to play it off. “Unfortunately, quite common. Welcome to parenting on the Upper East Side.”
“Jesus. Mandarin? She’s what, three?”
“Oh, that’s how it goes. Every child here is learning at least one other language, some of them two. Mika can speak nearly perfect French. It’s lovely.”
She smiles then, forcing it, but I can tell Erin really rattled her. It’s not a surprise. No one should speak to another human like that.
“Margaux’s mommy is so mean. Ms. Candace is nice! She rubs my back when I can’t fall asleep too!” Briggs says, going over to wrap his arm around Candace’s leg. It’s difficult with all the toilet paper, but Candace leans down to embrace him.
“And don’t you worry, I’ll keep doing it.”
“Good. Don’t listen to that mean lady,” he tells her emphatically.
“I agree,” I say, aiming an apologetic smile her way. “Briggs, how about you and I ask Ms. Candace if she wants to come to dinner with us?”
“Like a date?!” he exclaims, his eyes going wide. “I’ve always wanted to go on a date!”
I laugh. “What do you know about dates?”
“A lot!” he claims. “I know all about them! First you have to ask out the person you like.” He turns to Candace. “That’s you. Then if the person says yes, you have to get a babysitter, and you can’t just go in your regular clothes. You have to be very fancy and nice if you want to go on a date.”