Editorial: Limiting disclosure
Legislation is like barbed wire: for everything it fences in, it also fences things out — and often, how a piece of legislation looks depends on what side of the fence you’re on.
It was one of those days,
The kind that leaves you in a haze.
Meetings go long, long, long,
Things suddenly go wrong, wrong, wrong.
The phones keep ringing,
Email alerts are dinging,
Push notifications are ping, ping, pinging.
I hope by now you are singing along,
‘Cause you’ve had busy days like the kind in this song.
So hectic I resorted to rap.
And you’re just really wishin’ I’d stop this … you know.
OK. OK. OK.
I’ll give it up, but only because Drake and Bieber’s agents are fighting over who gets to sign me.
I also fear losing the no-rap readers, the ones who are wishing this was a Wangersky column.
But back to the reason for my bad rap: a recent day of utter busyness.
It was one thing after another, with little time to accomplish what I had hoped. (Please don’t tell my boss.)
I was even too busy to steal mini Crispy Crunch or Snickers bars from Laurie in finance. (Please don’t tell her.)
In fact, things were so hectic I lost track of the time and the fact my daughter had to be picked up at daycare. (Please don’t tell my wife.)
Thankfully for me, I remembered before it was too late and actually made it to daycare a few minutes early.
A group of preschool kids, including my daughter, and two teachers were outside gathered in a circle and singing songs.
My child, who’ll be five next month, raced excitedly towards me.
I gave her a quick hug but continued walking towards the other kids and the teachers.
Without hesitation, or any thought whatsoever, I took my girl’s place in the circle and joined in.
I didn’t know the song, but I tried mirroring their dance moves.
The group was likely not used to seeing a clumsy parent in a blazer and khakis mixing with their movements and their Paw Patrol, Dora, Frozen and Spiderman clothes.
I was surrounded by bright eyes and smiling faces.
Those looks and their energy was a sight for tired eyes, a fun release from the day’s pace and pressure.
Every second was magical and reminded me of what’s really important, of the reason we work so hard.
But then I felt two hands pressing on my back.
It was my daughter. She wasn’t too happy with my presence in the circle or my dancing.
I finished the song with her tugging on my blazer, instructing me to stand down.
“Why did you do that?” she asked on the way home.
“Daddy was just having fun,” I replied. “Did I embarrass you?”
“Yes,” she said.