THERE’S only one skill you need as a parent – adaptability. To be able to turn on a sixpence (remember those?
Weighty enough to take out a sibling’s eye, before they morphed into 5ps my kids won’t even pick up. I do, and stash them in a jar. One day I’ll be rich I tell you, rich, ha, ha, ha) and not get rattled.
This week’s volte-faces start with missing a bar’s birthday party (sigh) to catch an open evening at Eldest Child’s potential university after finding the form.
“Yeah, it’s tomorrow, didn’t look interesting … for parents, stuff about fees and loans, doesn’t affect me really …”
Instead of bitch slapping him I calmly phone and beg a place, leave work early and catch the train.
Among other things I learn at the event (it’s going to cost me how much?) I discover there’s an open day for students next week. Didn’t he tell me? No he bloody didn’t. Back at the homestead I resist the urge to burn his Bob Marley posters and dance round the pyre, howling and naked. I calmly phone them again and beg a place.
Next up is Youngest Child, singing, “To-mor-row it’s the holi-days!” Then “Have you booked my skiing course?”
“Remember? At Christmas I said I’d like to go at Easter?”
“I hate you.”
Ok, there are only two skills you need as a parent: adaptability, and planning.