The Parenting Licence

Constance arrives at the shops in her plain, economical hatchback, 15 minutes earlier than necessary to pick her fiance up. She wonders what the good news is that he mentioned in his text; she checks her phone again now that she’s out of the car, but he hasn’t let up any more information.

Over the shoulder of the last customer of his shift, Dan notices one fast-moving woman navigating through the supermarket’s denizens and he can tell it’s his Constance before her features are even visible. The bench she always sits on to wait for him is visible from the cash registers; her smiles from the bench have sped his end-of-shift duties along for a couple of months now, making him a beacon of efficiency.

Constance stands up as he finally reaches her. “I got promoted!” Dan exclaims, answering the question on her face. “I get to be the manager now.”

“Oh that’s fantastic news, honey! We can do up the nursery like we planned.”

“Yes, I think we finally have all our ducks in a row.”

They continued talking about their future on their way to the exit when a toddler interrupted their conversation. The beetroot-faced mass of squirming limbs on the floor was screaming at her frazzled mother. Clearly flustered, the mother gave in to the child’s chocolate-based demands.

“Don’t worry honey,” said Constance with a raised voice “our child won’t be such a brat. We know how to set strong boundaries.” The mother just shook her head as Constance marched on, Dan sending an apologetic look before following.

In the privacy of the car, Dan gently suggests a more empathetic approach. “That mother’s shopping cart was full of fresh vegetables y’know.”

“What’s your point?”

“I love that you give a lot of thought into making sure you’re right, so that you make the best decisions, but that doesn’t mean you know the full story of why other people make theirs.”

“Yes, I am right, and you know it. Besides, we’ll show them by example soon enough!”

The night progresses as usual for them; the housework is done quickly, leaving their bungalow spotless, and they enjoy a delicious dinner together at the table. This would be a safe and loving home for a child, Dan thinks to himself. He just hopes Constance knows it’s harder than it looks.

The morning brings a fresh and sunny Saturday, complete with a picnic-scented zephyr. The young couple decide to seize this opportunity by going for a bicycle ride to the park. The Spring had passed and the Summer was almost lost too but the freshly mowed grass smelled like a good substitute for the missing flowers, and the colourful picnic blankets were out in force today. The people populating the blankets ranged from teenager friendship groups to dog walking groups to families. Others like Constance & Dan were just here to use the scenic bike path, occasionally stopping in shady spots to refresh themselves.

They chose to stop at a spot with cool dappled shade, near a small family on a large blanket. Though it was a weekend, both parents were dressed well enough for an interview, and their toddler’s clothes were carefully chosen to match their colours of beige and blue. He is busy smashing toys together to see which will break, replacing them from the small mountain of toys beside him when they do. Dan gives them a shy wave as he parks the bikes, but Constance has other ideas.

“That’s an awful lot of toys you have there, isn’t it? The poor boy doesn’t seem to know how to care for them.” she barks. The mother nudges the father to stand up for them before going back to filing her nails, and Dan tugs at Constance to just let it go.

“Our son will never be without anything he needs. Can you say the same? I don’t even see a child with you.”

“That’s because we’re making sure everything is perfect first, so we don’t make obvious mistakes like this.” Constance yanks her arm away from an embarrassed Dan.

“Mistakes, hmm?” The man exchanged glances with his wife for a moment as if consulting her telepathically. “I’m doing everything in my power to make sure no child goes without anything they need. How about this: you give me your details and I’ll donate some of these toys to you, since you won’t make any mistakes with them.”

“My name is Constance Andrews and you’re not getting my other details because I do not need your charity. Enjoy your spoiled brat!” She marches to the bike and cycles away leaving Dan to frantically follow her.

The next opportunity to stop and get refreshed is a bumpy dirt patch in the sun. Constance downs half her water bottle before noticing Dan’s look of concern and disappointment.

“What? You know I’m right!”

“Constance I feel very embarrassed about that; you don’t know who they were. What if he works for a charity or something, I think he donates toys regularly! You don’t know!”

“Look I’m sorry I embarrassed you but I’m not going to stand by when people make stupid choices with their children. We’ll show them how it’s done soon enough anyway, and that’s that.”

The sky became overcast as if to match the mood for the rest of the ride. It stayed that way in the couple of weekends to follow as the Summer died away. The news cycle hit everyone with a shocking new legislation that was passed: people now had to submit an application for a licence to become parents. Social media was permeated with all the same questions over and over again. How did they keep this quiet? Who voted for this? Will this mean an end to abuse? What are the passing criteria? Do current parents need to apply retroactively?

“You can request a pamphlet by calling the number below” said the spokesperson on the news. The call inevitably began with an hour or two of being put on hold, but Dan the patient one persisted. There were too many fake copies to trust what was posted online, and he was much more concerned than Constance about whether they would pass the criteria or not. She was adamant her good knowledge and strong values would make for an easy acceptance.

Despite high demand, the requested mail came at light speed. Constance grabbed the pamphlet out of the envelope while Dan was holding it, and failed to notice the accompanying letter falling to the floor. The pamphlet outlined simple criteria: an income threshold, housing requirements, a clean criminal record, and so on.

“Honey you little worry-wort, I told you we’d pass all of the criteria! What’s that you’re holding?”

“I’m sorry babe, but we’re not-.” Dan covers his face and hands her the letter.

Dear Daniel KOUMANS,

We regret to inform you that Constance ANDREWS, whom you had nominated as your partner on the phone with our team, has been blacklisted from the S1203 Licence [parent] application registry. You may apply as a single parent or with a different partner. Should you have any questions or concerns regarding the necessary paperwork feel free to call at-

Constance crumples up the paper and the pamphlet and throws them to the other end of the room. Dan watches her storm out, and hears the car pull out. He knows she’s not the type of person to fall back on other people or seek hugs when things go wrong. She’ll be back after a long angry drive to clear her head. I’m upset now too, but I’ll have to wait for comfort, he knows. For now all he can do is employ his usual tactic in awful situations: trying to help where he can.

He researches the company logos at the bottom of the pamphlet, he reads government minutes regarding the legislation, and he finds support groups online for people in similar situations. By the time Constance returned to find him asleep at the computer, he had organised to attend a rally held by the biggest support group, sent multiple emails to authorities, and filled applications online wherever he could to annul the blacklist status. He had written down the most important information on a piece of paper.

Constance gently rouses him to put him to bed. “Come on honey, let’s get some rest.”

“There’s something important I need to tell you.”

“Tell me in the morning. We’ve had a big day.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

In the morning, Constance rose before Dan; the creature of habit got ready for the day with time enough to prepare breakfast for the two of them. Dan woke up to the smell of fresh toast and remembered his research; he rushed in to tell her but she had already found and devoured the information on the piece of paper. He could almost see the waves of guilt pass over her as she found out why she was barred from her dream. She stood there silently.

“It’s not your fault Constance. I found a group that are having a rally early this afternoon. It’s a televised event and everyone has to know about this!”

Will it make a difference, she thought, but they knew they had to do as much as they could. Dan filled in all the details on the way to the rally. The group is called ‘Mothers for Women’ and is led by a small group of mothers who do their best to support women’s choices, different to each other or not. They believe that because existing mothers don’t need to apply for the parenting license retroactively, they can lend their voice to the people who missed out. The main theme of this rally is to call attention to the application’s classist overtones; only people in higher income brackets or in whiter neighbourhoods seemed to be passing. Now that Dan and Constance know a little more about the reason, they have to take this opportunity to let their voices be heard.

Volunteer ushers were on the street with signs, pointing people past the news vans, towards the outdoor amphitheater. This has been very well organised, they thought as they were handed a paper each with a timetable of events. What would probably be called an ‘opening ceremony’ was finishing up as the couple arrived, leaving the stage free for the first speaker.

The frazzled-looking woman looked familiar to the couple. She took the microphone and warmed up the large crowd with some jarring slam poetry before explaining her story. The couple were disheartened and bothered by the sun, wondering how this would help, and how they could get their message out, but suddenly the story struck a chord with them.

“My poor little foster daughter was in so much pain after that bee sting, but she was hiding it all from me because she tries to be tough. I was finishing the grocery shopping when all her feelings finally exploded. You know how it is, they’re so small and they’ve got all these big feelings, so it’s gotta come out in a tantrum. So my heart, I bought the chocolate for her to feel better! And what happened? A woman belittled me for it. She, childless, said she could do better!” The crowd booed and hissed right into Constance’s good conscience. In a moment of clarity she knew what to do.

She ran up the small stone steps to the stage and stood beside the speaker. The speaker, recognising both the face and the remorse on it, motioned for her to take the microphone.

“Alex, was it? It was me. I’m the one who criticised you in the shopping centre and I’m sorry. You’re right, we are all too critical of each other when we should be united in our duty of care. Not one of us here would see a child go without safety and love. Will you forgive me?” Alex nodded, and held Constance gently at the shoulders. Constance notices that all the crowd and the news cameras were now fixed on her attentively.

“I criticised someone else recently too. A man spoiling his toddler with toys told me he does everything in his power to make sure no child goes without what they need. That man was the CEO of Playpen Toys and he personally barred me from applying for the parenting licence! It was his company was the one lobbying for this law. It was his company that chose the income-based criteria. It’s his company’s luxury products that benefit when the cheaper brands are no longer chosen!”

Alex grabbed the microphone off Constance and whispered “Is this true? Do NOT bring our cause down with lies!” and Constance nodded through tears.

“You heard the woman!” shouted Alex to the crowd. “All you in front of me and the millions at home say it with me, because it’s our choice and our choices are valid: Boycott Playpen Toys! Boycott Playpen Toys!”

Dan beamed with pride at Constance for her bravery and her growth. The world was abuzz with news of the events of the rally, and everyone is hopeful for change. In the next news cycle, there’s a new word on everyone’s lips: revision.

“They’ve put the criteria under revision? I was hoping they would just get rid of it all.” Constance says, filling out a form.

“At least we’ve made a difference. You got an awful person fired, and you’ve made a great new friend! There, you’ve ticked every box. They say the card comes quickly.” said Dan.

“We’ll show them all soon enough...”