The Feel Club
I had a great relationship with the kindergarten teacher of
two of our daughters. She was a fantastic, high-energy teacher, and a lovely,
caring friend.
But she was also highly competent and professional. Even
though she had lots of experience dealing with our family, and knew we were
totally G-rated and on the up and up, it's a different world today, and you
just never know.
So one day, she gave me a call, and said it was her duty as
a teacher to ask me for clarification for something that our little tow-head,
Beamer, had said.
(Point of order: we nicknamed her "Beamer" because she
smiled all the time, like a constant supply of sunbeams.)
The teacher spoke rapidly, obviously in distress over having
to ask me this:
"According to the law, I have to ask you about this: Beamer
said that you often take her to a place called 'The Feel Club' . . . and I just
wanted to know what exactly that was all about."
It sounded like she suspected it was some kind of a child
sexual exploitation ring that we were taking her to. But I knew instantly what
our daughter had meant: "The FIELD Club." It's our golf course and swimming
pool, clear across town in our old neighborhood. The teacher probably wasn't
familiar with it because it was so far away.
Of course I didn't mind her asking; it's important for
professionals to aid law enforcement and advocate for children who might indeed
be abused or exploited.
But I played her along like a fish on a line, for a while.
"Oh, yeah, when we take Beamer to 'The Feel Club,' we make
her take off her clothes, and nobody else there has clothes on, either," I
deadpanned.
I could hear the shock in the silence on the other end of
the phone line. Finally, I relented:
"But they all have their swimming suits on, because it's
'The FIELD Club' and it's our swimming pool!!!!"
"Ahhhhhhh!" the teacher finally exhaled. "I knew there had
to be a logical explanation!" She burst out laughing. "The 'Feel' Club!!!!"
She was relieved and happy, a good way to . . . feel. Same
on this end, too!