This is not a recent picture. You can tell that because there’s snow in it. I just thought I’d put it here to show everyone what winter used to be like before we completely screwed the planet up. They say that winter will arrive in eastern Europe some time next month, but by then it will be too late. It’s already spring. During the summer I’m this complete temperature junkie, permanently checking the 7-day forecast for cooler weather, but in the winter I usually switch off. But not this non-winter. Keep waiting for minus 20. Even checking the weather in Moscow, because it ain’t going to get freezing here if it ain’t freezing there.
We make the kids sit at the dinner table every night, fighting Two of Two and his urge to leg it the second he’s finished eating his tomato ketchup and whatever substance is lurking underneath it on that day. And every night, when he tries to run off, we say, “You can’t leave until everyone’s finished, you’re going to sit there and talk to us so you don’t become a weird teenager.” And he says… “I don’t care.” One of his new catchphrases. Very teenage. Already. The other night TPCKAM was giving him a bit of a lecture about the phrase, telling him he had to drop it. In classic unintended undermining of other parent mode, I chose the moment to tell TPCKAM about one of the phrases she overuses. The conversation went like this…
Me: While we’re on the subject, you’ve got to stop saying ‘It’s not rocket science.’
TPCKAM: Why? Do I say it a lot?
Me: All the time. Sorry, but you know…
TPCKAM: Thanks for telling me in front of the kids.
Me: You do it to everyone, usually when talking about the Blair government.
One of Two: Dad’s right.
TPCKAM: If I can’t say that, what am I going to say instead?
Two of Two: You can use the F-word, like Dad.
Enough said…
So it’s January and we’re going to school by bike some days. Not that the kids are happy about this. The other day, riding home into a little bit of a wind, there were objections all round. First One of Two stopped and complained about being tired. I couldn’t hear because of the traffic and rode on. Then Two of Two produced a hundred mile an hour whine which went along the lines of… “I’m tired, and I’ve had a hard day at school, and everyone blamed me for letting in four goals, and I’m miserable, and my legs are tired, and the wind’s in my face and that’s making me more tired, and I’m going to slow down and then you’re going to ride off and I’ll be lost and I’ll never see you again…”
I probably shouldn’t have laughed, but he got over it anyway. We rode on. One of Two caught up with us, tried to pass Two of Two, but he was weaving around like a drunk goalkeeper, and she couldn’t get past. She got off her bike, meticulously leant it up against a post, and stormed off to stand with her arms folded in a huff because the world was against her. Turning round, Two of Two noticed that his sister had downed tools and so he too got off his bike, laid it down in the middle of the pavement and sat on it. A wee boy. Miserable.
It was one of those moments that as a parent you want to be able to frame. Gloom, anger, hormones, resentment, antagonism, cold, wind, rain in the air, and all beside six lanes of fast moving traffic. I leant on my bike and laughed. I was still in the same position half and hour later when the doctors came.
We got home in the end. I was Kissinger rather than Nixon, and you know, I didn’t even use the F-word once. At some point even the most miserable kid realises that when they’re out on a bike and they get off in a huff, there’s no getting home until they get back on it.
It ain’t rocket science…
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