Parenting Karma.

My little cherubs are a whole lot of fun!  Both cheeky and mischevious with huge grins and guttural laughs.  They’re confidence levels are high thus no human being on  planet earth is off limits to their inappropriate questions and boundary-less communication.  Any exposure to the general public can best demonstrate this; particularly in the 3-year old who only yesterday smacked the arse of an unknown Father innocently taking his child into pre-school.  I apologised wholeheartedly then went an unpleasant shade of aubergine as he explained he was afraid it was me. AFRAID?  

She also likes to enter a room; restaurant, café and announce in a very loud voice that she’s arrived: “Hello everyone!” Anyone under thirty will pretend they’ve not heard, those over sixty will generally look like they’ve just licked piss off a thistle and only the other Mother’s of ‘bright, spirited and wilful’ children will proffer a smile of solidarity and understanding. On a recent trip to Starbucks said 3-year old asked several people if they had a home? Would they like to come to her party? And that ‘she would be buying them something special!’  All relatively innocent; the trouble starts when the stupid fuckers attempt to respond.  Honestly I give them the eye; you  know the ‘wild’ one combined with a shake of the head and a wonky smile, showing only one tooth, but no they wade in; where angels fear to tread.


“Yes I have a home, do you have a nice house?”

“Eugh what’s that smell?  Have you poo’d?  Why your face smell funny?”


“Ooh a party; is it your birthday?  How old will you be?”

“You’ve got a fat, fat tummy. Eugh what’s that smell?  Have you poo’d? Why your face smell funny?”


“That’s kind of you, what special thing will you buy me?”

” Don’t say idiot. It is very, very bad. Don’t say stupid. It is very, very bad.  Don’t say rat. It is very, very bad. You’ve got a fat, fat tummy. Eugh what’s that smell?  Have you poo’d?  Why your face smell funny?”


So there you have it; you’ve been warned.  If a small child with wild curly hair and a massive ‘tic-tac’ grin enters a café to her own announcement followed by a sheepish and often haggard me do not respond to her line of questioning.  Simply smile, perhaps grasp and pat my hand and tell me “it’s okay, nothing stays the same forever, one day she’ll be the Barista here and you can sit on one of the hard to clean material-chairs and piss your pants whilst dribbling into your latte.”  And at that point; that thing that goes round, has come around.


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