Isaac's secret life

Since I take care of Isaac four days a week, I'm used to being the parent who is associated with him -- in a literal and figurative sense, we go together. I'm the one who takes him to all of his playdates and social engagements, sometimes with kids and adults whom Craig has never even met. But also I'm the one who takes him to what I consider our frequent haunts -- Kindergym, various parks, the library, the ice cream parlor, the drugstore, the children's second-hand store. I've always felt like I know everything about his life, including the people in it, and that everyone knows me in return.

But Isaac and I have gone to a number of places in the past few days -- our local supermarket, hardware store, and toy store -- where I was reminded that Isaac has another life. That is, his life with Craig.

Isaac and I only go to the supermarket together once or twice a month, because Craig does most of the grocery shopping. In fact Craig always takes Isaac to do the week's marketing on their Friday alone together -- it's part of their routine. One day this past week, however, Isaac and I went to pick up a last-minute ingredient for that evening's dinner. As soon as I wheeled the shopping cart into the store, Isaac looked toward the deli counter and said, "Want little bit cheese."

For a moment I was surprised, but then I remembered that Craig had told me about this -- whenever the two of them stop to pick up something from the deli, one of the regular clerks always offers Isaac a slice of cheese. (Not needing to go to the deli, however, I explained that there would be no cheese today. Isaac accepted this.)

Right after we were through at the grocery store, we stopped off at the nearby hardware store. Again, Isaac and I don't often go there together (although we do go to the other hardware store, which has a model railroad), while Craig regularly takes him there to pick up supplies for weekend projects. A jovial young salesclerk came up to us and, after asking me if I needed help, turned to Isaac and said heartily, "Hey, buddy!"

Isaac turned his head away and said what he usually says in these situations, which is "No."

I was about to explain that Isaac can be slow to warm up to strangers, but the salesclerk said, "Aw, come on buddy! You always say 'hi' to me when you're here with your dad." I looked at the clerk, genuinely startled to discover that Isaac knew people that I didn't know. However, it was soon revealed that Isaac wasn't too fond of this particular person, because when the clerk enthusiastically suggested a high-five, Isaac simply hid his face in my shoulder.

My final glimpse into Isaac's secret life came a few days later, at the toy store where he and I had gone to select a birthday gift for his friend Zoey. As we stood at the cash register, the salesclerk smiled at me and said, "It's nice to see Mom's face too -- I usually see your son in here with his dad." I smiled back and replied that yes, they have gone to the toy store a lot lately (probably three times in the last six weeks, mainly to get new Hot Wheels vehicles for this summer's trips).

All three of these encounters came as a surprise to me, and not an entirely pleasant one. I recognized that they were a useful reminder that there are many things that Craig and Isaac do without me, but at first they made me feel off-balance, even a little bit invisible -- did everyone recognize Craig, but not me? Was I losing touch with the outside world? Did Isaac and I need to get out more?

But when I thought more about it, I felt better. I think it's terrific that Craig and Isaac have these shared experiences, and that they get to spend so much time together. The cheese request was not a big deal, and I realized I liked the conversation with the friendly clerk at the toy store -- she made me feel like Isaac and Craig were part of her community, but that I was part of it too.

But I simply didn't enjoy our interaction with the high-fiving clerk at the hardware store. I felt blindsided and excluded by his remarks, but I mostly disliked his over-familiar attitude. And so did Isaac -- I guess we still have that much in common.