“We’ll be fine,” the father cut in, lifting up his little girl, still loudly crying.
“Hold on, just in case there are any after-effects, give us your card,” ordered the mother, suddenly hostile.
I had to confess that I had no longer had a business card.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she spat. “We’ll find you through the Association, if we need to.”
An embarrassed silence followed the aggrieved family’s departure. The other mothers all swiftly took their leave, avoiding my gaze.
When everyone had gone, I backed my way up the access ramp. This time, no one came to my aid.
“He’s a baby,” Gregory went on. “Those mothers should have been more understanding.”
“It was so awful,” I said.
We had already spent the whole week talking about the incident, but nothing had been resolved.
“It wasn’t malice, it was impulsiveness. You’re impulsive sometimes too.”
I said nothing: it was my fault again. I turned my attention to the road whipping by, and forced myself not to cry in front of the children. Gregory was dropping us off at the little farm in Riverdale that morning. It was on his way to work, since the office was further east on Danforth Avenue.
“In any case, I’m not setting foot in another of those meetings. I never want to see those women again.”
At least on that point, Gregory agreed. The little I’d seen of the meeting before the catastrophe hadn’t convinced me of its usefulness. “Maybe we should send them to a psychiatrist.”
We’d arrived at Riverdale Farm. Gregory parked diagonally and watching the boys in the rearview mirror as they wriggled in their seats. They were covered in Cheerios.
“No, Emma, I’m not putting them in the hands of a specialist who’s going to find some kind of problem and give them drugs. All the kids these days come out of those consultations with some kind of diagnosis: ADD, ADHD, OCD, Tourette’s, oppositional defiant disorder, language disorder… It’s absurd, and I don’t want any of it. We’re their parents, it’s up to us to help them to grow, to integrate, to learn. And it’s mainly you doing that work, I know that very well. I know it’s hard. That’s why I wanted you to go get help, but you’re a very good mother. I have faith in you. We don’t need a psychologist.”
I suddenly felt important. Yes, I was able to educate our sons. I could do it. I hugged Gregory and got out of the car, ready to have an excellent day.
We waved to Gregory in the car as he drove away, and I helped the boys put on their little backpacks.
“So, boys, what would you like to see first? The pigs? The cows? The sheep?”
Daniil looked elsewhere and Vanya chewed his top lip. I knew they knew the words, because I had just spent the whole week reading farm-related books with them and I had directed all our games with farm figurines. It simply wasn’t possible that they didn’t understand.
“Vanya, what would you like?”
I waited a long time for him to answer.
“Cow.”
He said it clearly, looking me right in the eye. No, there was no way he knew it was an insult. I immediately dismissed the notion.
“Bravo, Vanya! Let’s go see the cows then.”
Every word they spoke was a triumph worthy of acclaim. I took them by the hand and headed off, skipping. There were lovely flowers decorating the farm, and the buildings were separated by hilly roads. A number of groups with excited children moved from one enclosure to another. The farm was managed by the City of Toronto. The staff worked languidly, there to both answer visitors’ questions and take care of the animals. The smell of soil and animals permeated our clothes.
The cows were not in the stable, but were grazing in a nearby enclosure. The boys squatted down to pass their arms through the fence.
“Careful, she can bite.”
Daniil stood back up, but Vanya stayed in the very same position and grabbed some hay from the ground. Lowering her big muzzle, the cow sniffed Vanya’s hand before licking up the whole handful of straw. The two boys burst out laughing. Vanya wiped his hand on his shorts and Daniil came to join him and grab a new tuft of straw. The cow licked them each in turn, seemingly glad to be fed.
The twins were so overwhelmed with uproarious laughter that they fell over backwards. I had never seen them so happy. I laughed with them at the animal’s voracity.
“Well, she seems to like you very much.”
They paid no attention to me at all, not appearing to have heard what I had said. Daniil had put his arm around his brother and they laughed with one voice. I stood back to get a picture of them in that pose, and texted it to Gregory to show him what fun we were having. Then I sat on a bench a little distance from them, since it was impossible to make them leave the pen; they didn’t want to visit anything else. I took out my tube of hand cream and started massaging my cuticles as I watched them. They had gotten down on their hands and knees and were pretending to chew, shaking their heads to chase away the flies themselves. Other children regularly came over to stand at the fence, but they didn’t stay interested for long. They watched the ruminants for a few moments, then left. I shared a smile with the mother or the Filipino nanny accompanying them.
They spent the entire morning with one particular cow, following her as she moved across her cramped enclosure. There were three cows, but theirs, a big red one, never moved from the fence where they perched. The special bond they had with Jules seemed to extend to other animals; they were more gifted in establishing relationships with animals than with
