- Never being able to go to the toilet alone. Someone is always talking to me through the door, or trying to come in. To a child, a door merely means they must yell through it to be heard.
- Being given mere seconds between demands. When I say “Maybe later” a child will count to maybe two or three, and then ask “What about now?”
- The hack-and-gobble fest that is learning to eat properly with a knife and fork. Surely this will improve with time? Surely we might eventually cut food into bite-sized pieces without engraving the porcelain beneath with a spine-electrifying screech? And eat at a reasonable pace?*
- Being the Hydration Police. “Did you drink any water today? When was the last time you had a drink?” I’m sorry, did I only wait two seconds before asking again? I learned that from you, my child.
- Being the Supervisory Board of body management.** “Have you attained immaculate sunscreen coverage? When was the last time you washed that hair?” (I can smell it from here.) “Are you brushing those bicuspids sufficiently?”
The next couple may not strictly be kid-only things. They may just be careless-people things, which my kids engage in. But they’re certainly things I wouldn’t miss:
- Turning off every light in the house in the middle of the day. Maybe I’m the only one who cares about electricity, ie the price of.
- Closing every drawer whenever I enter a room. This is the furniture equivalent of walking around with your mouth open.
* I am, it should be noted, being hypocritical here. I’m not a hacker, but I am a gobbler. I eat like it’s a competitive sport and I must be champion, at any cost.
** Of course there’s an argument not to do this in the first place, and let your kids just have at the world. I do try, but sometimes I do hover. And nag. Just like they do to me. Wait: Are they learning nagging... from me?!
👇 Go on. Add your own in the comments.