It’s such a simple question. How many children do I have?
Except now it’s really difficult to answer.
Others had warned me that this question was going to be a minefield. I told myself I’d tell people that I had three kids when the question came up the first time. I figured I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, when the time came.
And then the question came. It wasn’t in some calm setting, as I imagined it would be. It was while heading home from the office Christmas party – an event I wasn’t sure I should attend but which I pulled through while achieving my three main goals a) not crying b) not making anyone else cry and c) not getting ridiculously drunk – with a colleague while waiting for the subway. I know her by sight, but have forgotten so many names of so many of my German colleagues in the last year. I had no idea she had kids and the subject came up and then she asked the question.
And I said two.
It was probably because I was a little drunk (I said my goal was not to be “ridiculously drunk”). It was partially because I wasn’t expecting the question. It was mostly because i just didn’t feel like explaining the whole story in a subway station to a woman I barely know. It’s because she asked how many children do I have, present tense, and the only correct answer is two.
But I still felt like I abandoned Colin a little bit with that answer. It’s not quite Saint Peter denying Jesus three times right before the crucifixion, but it doesn’t feel good either.
And I’m not sure how I’m going to answer the question the next time.