I make pancakes in the kitchen on a Sunday morning. Every few seconds I hear another word bellowed from far away ‘bulbous’……..’bouffant’………’gazebo’……….’shindig’……..’whale’… 'macadamnia' ....….’wubber’……’beluga’……….’’galloshes’……’Wario’………There are several more of them, but those are the only ones I can remember, the only bits of the puzzle available to my tiny brain. I’m not able to make any sense of them, but each word is followed by a shriek that definitely falls into the humourously amused category.
I think of all the toys that we left out the night before. Instead of ‘tidying time’ they were allowed a stay of execution, or rather the toys were. The elaborate conglomerate was permitted to cover the floor and most of the furniture for an additional 24 hours, negotiable.
Today, the game continues. To have a game, any game, pretend or otherwise, extend beyond the statutory 10 nano seconds, is to be encouraged, nurtured and permitted to be ‘messy’ for longer that I am comfortable. Not so much deck the halls but booby trap the floors.
I continue my conveyor belt production of pancake for the masses. I am tied to the hot plate and cannot leave it unattended. Even at the age they are now, there is always the possibility of the unexpected, the unpredictable.
He yells at his brother and sister who skip off to see what has him entranced. I amazed that they respond. I am amazed that he called them, a request for joint attention is always applauded, so fresh, so new, so amazing. With all of them now in one location, far away from the hot plate I can follow the guffaws of laughter to the hall.
In the hall they all crowd around the computer. I need to become computer savvy and "internet savvy" if I am to be able to protect them. Suddenly I am grossly aware of their development and the trend ahead. If anyone doubles back, I’ll be able to intervene, stop them from getting access to the hot plate. The lure of U-tube is inescapable for this generation.
My youngest son is doubled up, almost on, or maybe off the chair. The other two observe the screen, the internet, a Mario clip. I watch. I can hardly hear a word as both the boys screech together, joint attention if ever I saw it. My daughter turns to me and raises an eyebrow, just like my brother, her uncle, a sceptic, a non believer. I wait a few moments more, just to be on the safe side, that the clip isn’t going to sink into p.orn or violence or some other horror. It doesn’t. He hits replay. She raises her arms to let them flop down to her sides, a gesture of disbelief.
I slip an arm around her shoulder to guide her back to the family room. We leave the boys locked in.
I pour more batter on the hot plate. I suspect it’s a boy thing. The clip is not in the category of humour for me, nor her. For my boys the clip definitely rates a 10, "hilarious." The days of innocence are withering, I can't hide in a different era. I need to protect my own little "monkeys."
17 minutes ago