Kids

If there is one thing that really gets my bad language going it is this country’s in particular, and adults’ in general, attitude to children and young people.

A friend of mine pronounced, some months ago, that he’d rather die than have a child. The emotional fall out nearly killed our relationship. I thought it offensive on a Richter Scale not yet invented. I cried. My son, uninvited, zoomed into the text which had reduced me to nothing, read it and gave a comment never to be printed. I like my friend who made this inappropriate comment very much; so, eventually, I recovered and tried to carry on as normal.

Not, of course, before making my objection sharply clear. He did not have the sensitivity to apologize for his trampling on my feelings. Instead of which he defended the right to his opinion. Fair enough. We are all free to carry on relationships with those who have the ability to hurt us most – and so I did.

And yes, all you ”adults” who still want children out of sight, out of mind, out of hearing, please do answer this one: When does a child become an adult and as such an acceptable member of society?

I do not understand people who so abhor the first fifteen/twenty years of life. Why? We all have to start somewhere. We all have to grow, learn, hop, skip, fall over, cry – and we are all fully signed up members of society right from the moment we are born.

There is nothing but bad press for anyone under twenty. On the other hand, nowadays, we, the supposedly adult, chaperone them, don’t give them any freedom – in order “to protect” our children; from what exactly? Maybe they need to be protected from people who have forgotten what it was like to be a child.

And yes, I am very angry indeed.

U

Distracted

Dear God in Heaven, please give me a break.

I have just learned which two pieces I wrote have had the most hits: “Lederhosen” (by a long shot), and though “Brothers in arms” was a front runner it’s still, worringly, in second place.

Oh, I’ll just leave them to it. If Lederhosen gets people off so be it; if brothers in arms will result in a knock at my door I shall not answer. On the other hand, let your imagination run riot: Two brothers in Lederhosen and armed. Maybe a new game in the making; all we need now is a convincing voice over.

Great isn’t it, I have now so comprehensively distracted myself I have forgotten what I meant to write about. My loss not yours.

U

We stand

My son has two nationalities.

Being his efficient self he has just put his order in for tomorrow morning’s breakfast; mainly a cup of coffee with froth (presumably he means cappuccino).

In a way, of course, I am pleased considering that he pronounced that he doesn’t know why anyone would prefer tea to coffee. Though oddly it’s his English father who seems to nurture this sudden interest in caffeine – Felix, at age nearly seventeen, knowing his own mind, too late for me to take issue and engage in a parental fight over what is to be encouraged or not.

On the subject of coffee and cake, I do despair at times; no wonder I left where I originated from.

Yesterday afternoon a perfectly interesting phone conversation with my mother was terminated by her when suddenly she announced that it was time for her to make coffee and serve THE cake.

It’s driving me nuts – only two days earlier my sister had her own tale to tell on the cake and coffee front. You think wars are fought over, say, who to invade, annex, conquer; do not be fooled my dear friends. It’s cake where it’s at. And once more I have designed to arrive at the last minute at this year’s family gathering so nobody will expect me to bake a cake; I’ll leave my sisters to it since they are so much better at it. 

Right now I can’t think of a nursery rhyme to cover the above, so I’ll have to think of one myself. What rhymes with ‘baker’? Other than “maker”.

U