We’re working on figuring out next year’s prospective kindergarten matriculation for Finnegan right now.

It’s a little insane.

Between the level of competition and the hum of feverish parents meeting on tours, I feel like we’re in some wavelength of college applications already. He’s such a fantastic boy and has so many wonderful qualities that clarify and deepen as time goes on. Don’t get me wrong, I probably have had little to do with his greatness. He is his own man.

And that can sometimes be his undoing. He can be brusque, singleminded and emotional. NO IDEA WHERE HE GETS THOSE THINGS FROM. At times, it’s a real bear.

But those days are fewer and farther between compared to toddlerhood. He’s growing up. And so are we, as parents.

In the place of the solitude of parenting a much younger child, however, is having to be part of larger and more interconnected communities. We are bound to participate in school functions and classes and after-school, mid-weekend, longer-duration events. There, we get to witness parenting of all kinds. And shapes. And volumes.

I yearn for a communal home for my son, as young mind, and myself, as a parent. But this video encapsulates my troubled feelings about groups of parents and group-mindedness so eloquently and disappointingly. There is some sort of parasitic pathology in groups of parents.

It doesn’t have to be a soccer game any more for it to be a battle. Parents are duking it out over test scores, ballgames, playdates and much more for much less. But I’m well aware of how hypocritical this is, calling out my fellow parents. I, too, struggle with blinding emotion and reactivity when it comes to my children’s well being and pursuits. But at some point, we have to gut check ourselves.

Are we really going to beat the living hell out of someone because they root for the opposing team? Are we so tunnel-visioned that enemies abound? When I see signs that say, “Players play. Coaches coach. Parents cheer.” — I am aghast.

My sons’ performance in school, on a field and for the rest of their lives cannot be guided by a screaming father. I will scream when there is a real threat. I reserve that right. So, let’s all relish in the play of this passage a bit more. I’m tired of fighting and watching you fight. Our fight.