Yesterday turns out to have been “Take Our Childs To Work” Day.

By a total fluke of timing resulting from the fact that she is on spring break and we didn’t really know what else to do with her, it so happens that I did take the eldest gel in with me to the shop.  (And why, for the love of God, I neglected to have her bring along her iPod or some similar electronic device, I haven’t the foggiest.  Watching the Pater edit briefs gets mighty boring after a while.)

Throughout the course of the day, I had occasion to introduce the gel to various colleagues.  The introductions usually went something like this:

Self:  “Gel, this is my friend Mr. Smith.  Mr. Smith, this is my oldest daughter, Gel.”

Gel (sotto voce): “Hullo.”

Colleague: “Hi! Oh, please call me John.”

Upon which I would fix my colleague with an icy, indignant glare.

Not really, of course.  However, I certainly felt like it.  I strongly disapprove of this kind of familiarity between the young and their elders.   And I get especially irritated when it is encouraged in the face of my very clear signals that I don’t want it to be.