Remember that Seinfeld episode where Elaine becomes George, George becomes Elaine and everything comes out Even Steven for Jerry? Yeah, life’s not like that.
Ok, maybe I’m dating myself here by referring to a long-gone sit-com but I think, even if you’ve never watched the show, that you get my point.
Life is not a scorecard, a balance sheet, a scale.
Everything doesn’t come out even in the end. Everyone doesn’t always get an equal share.
But try telling that to my kids.
They have an innate sense of fairness that’s downright annoying. In fact, it’s driving me batty.
Sasha thinks Ben gets more dessert than her. And maybe he does. Ben thinks Sasha gets more snuggle time. And maybe she does.
Sasha says she took a shower first yesterday, so today it’s Ben turn to go first. Ben says Sasha got book-time first yesterday, so today it’s his turn to go first.
And on and on and on.
To be honest, I don’t know who got first when. And I don’t care.
Of all the things I have to keep track of on a daily basis, who gets more or less of what just isn’t important to me.
But to my kids, Even Steven is a credo to live by. They can’t comprehend a world without fairness. I guess that’s the beauty of youth and innocence. But my little constitutional lawyers-in-training are pleading their case until my ears bleed.
And that, my friends, is the curse of living in a Democracy. Here in America, everyone thinks they have equal rights to life, liberty and, well, you know the rest.
But really, we know that’s bull. Some people get more. Some people have it easier. Some people are just lucky.
It’s a tough life lesson. I know. I choke it down everyday when I pass beautiful people driving luxury cars along boulevards flanked by mini-mansions.
Makes me think that if we lived in a dictatorship, my children would get what they get and they wouldn’t get upset (to quote my daughter’s amazing preschool teacher).
If we lived in a caste-system society, my children would know not to expect more than what they were given.
If we lived in a war zone, they’d be happy to be safe.
Which makes me think maybe it’s time to take my Elaine, my George and my Kramer (that’d be the dog) and move.