Wat zou Eberhard doen?

Sometimes I am jealous of Femke Halsema. For example, when I cycle past the official residence. And when I cycle past her parking spot for the official residence. Then too. Or when Edwin van der Sar catches cans of beer for her.

There are moments when I am not jealous of Femke Halsema at all. When there is a digital petition going around asking people to vote against her. When a monument for Eberhard van der Laan is installed and you feel the whole city mourning and thinking: if only he were still here. When you all feel that the shoes you have to fill are actually too big, while you are still doing your best and have the best for the city in mind. In your own way.

This morning was another moment when jealousy was the last emotion I felt when I thought of Femke Halsema. A worried face fills the front page of De Telegraaf. It reports that her son was involved in an armed burglary. Femke's story sounds a bit different. He had a toy gun and was with a friend on an abandoned houseboat. I think Femke's version is a slightly sanitized one. That of a mother. A mother who surely dragged him up the stairs of the official residence by his collar that evening, went off so hard that his hair (I suspect just as wild a curly head as his mother's) was like a helmet around his head and gave him a month of house arrest. Something like that. But to the outside world, you stand up for your son. That honors her.

Did De Telegraaf exaggerate? Probably. Was there mischief and unwanted behavior? Definitely. Is there a case of reverse class justice here (a boy with a mother who was not the mayor of Amsterdam would never make national news)? Is it unfair? Maybe. But that parking spot on the Herengracht is too.

There is a question that keeps coming back to my mind. What would Eberhard do? He would, I can imagine, have told this immediately. Come on, get that splinter out. This has happened, I am a human, my child is a teenager, we all make mistakes and this shows how easily vandalism creeps into the city. If it can happen to my child, then to anyone. We need to work on this together. You and I.

Something like that. That connects.

Dear Femke, today I do not envy you. I hope that you and your son find a way to turn this around and make it good. And I wish you an Edwin van der Sar who catches the stray cans for you.