In theory, I’m a pacifist.  In practice, I sometimes get combative.  One place where this happens is on the playground.  If some kid cuts my daughter off in line for the slide, I may look for a way to trip him later on, or not-so-subtly shove him out of the way if his caregiver isn’t looking—and they never are.  I don’t think I’ve ever actually acted on such urges, but the blind rage that motivates them throws question on that assumption.

Okay, I’ve been known to make some loud comments about rude children.  Which prompts Nate to ask me, “How are you a children’s librarian?”  That’s easy to answer:  Because that equation is completely different.  My library patrons aren’t treading on my offspring, so their antics don’t offend me.  Certainly not on a personal level.

I have a hypothesis that my playground hostility is due to a natural instinct to preserve the species.  Another example of a preservation instinct is my missing tooth hypothesis.  See, after Geraldine lost her first tooth, I got squeamish when I looked at her.  I might have thought myself a bad parent, but my sister made an offhand comment about having a similar feeling with her son.  I looked straight into his mouth, which was missing several teeth, and felt nothing.

I had a similar reaction when Rhys had a patch of eczema on her back.  Trust me, I’m not the type to faint at the sight of blood—let alone rashes—but I was no longer able to look at her back during a bath, and it became Nate’s responsibility to administer the lotion.  I can see myself looking at other people’s lesions and infections and third-degree burns and to-the-bone puncture wounds and still feel less affected.

I suppose I could call it my eczema hypothesis, but that sounds much less intriguing than “missing tooth hypothesis,” don’t you think?

So, I was talking about my playground hostility with someone the other day, and I was about to divulge my preservation-of-the-species hypothesis, but I stopped short.  The reason?  I was about to use the word “evolutionary,” and someone had just entered the room that Nate recently identified as a rather adamant creationist.  Then came self-doubt.  So what?  Since when do I censor myself for fear of treading on someone’s misguided beliefs?

This is the rationalization I’ve allowed myself:  Although I consider it well-reasoned, my hypothesis is short on credibility, and I didn’t think conjecture would hold up well against blind faith.  If I thought there might be potential for debate instead of immediate dismissal, maybe I would have said it anyway.

My other rationalization is, there should have been beer at that party.

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