The Transfer of Power.
Morning Campers!
A very relieved Raccoon is back behind the keyboard again. Five long days and even longer nights during which the only sniff of a keyboard that I got was a borrowed laptop in the election count which its owner had kindly switched from Chinese characters for me – but had neglected to tell me that this meant it was now an English speaking computer with a Greek keyboard – hence my very short blogpost on the night! There really are super intelligent students in Cambridge – imagine doing a degree in Chinese in your second language…..
I shall not attempt to address electoral issues this morning, I have only been back for a few hours, have not caught up on all the news, and besides, my mind has been sorely exercised by a different transfer of power I have witnessed over the past few days. I need some answers from you all to put my mind at rest.
I have spent the past five days unceremoniously dumping myself and my nutritional requirements on two different good friends. It seemed only fair to split the burden. Both families are highly intelligent, educated, professional and thoroughly nice people – I am nothing if not particular.
They have between them the grand total of eight hormonal teenagers. Mr G did enquire anxiously at one point ‘how are the children’ expecting the usual explosion from me – and was amazed to hear me reply ‘actually very nice’. It is the only known occasion when I have given such a response. I’m not fond of other people’s rug rats.
It was true though, all eight teenagers were polite, well mannered, confident, and extremely good company. No ‘Chavs’ these, nor ‘NEETS’, they were all destined to find a well paid position in our ‘Great British Economy’.
Their parents are no shrinking violets either. The sort of people who make things happen. The backbone of England. The entrepreneurs, the movers and shakers.
So, being an inveterate chronicler of snatches of conversation, I was intrigued to hear the snippets of dialogue that passed backwards and forwards.
‘Dad, I need a cheque for £50’
‘Mum, you haven’t washed my shirt’
‘Mum, make sure you pick me up at 12 sharp, I’ve told Sophie you’ll take us both to Sam’s’.
They weren’t being rude, there was just a calm acceptance that they could rebuke, order, determine, their parent’s day.
Mealtimes were a virtual restaurant. Boyfriends and girlfriends appeared and sat expecting to be fed. Some even stayed the night.
Nor was there any complaint from either set of parents – nor of the fact that all three of us were huddled outside the back door in the drizzling rain – smoking. The children you see, don’t agree with smoking. So they don’t. The parents that is. Not in the children’s house.
One set of parents went to an enormous amount of trouble constructing a ‘feast’ that required preparation over two days. Various relatives were invited. At the very last minute, son decided that he was going into town to meet a friend. No he wouldn’t be eating en famille that night. Yes, he would require money for his Kentucky Fried Chicken instead. Yes, someone did need to stop their culinary activities and drive him into town. No, it was nothing to do with disliking the menu, in fact he was so fond of the proposed starter that he carefully divided it into two halves, and took half of it with him to be enjoyed by his friends.
Back when Noah was a lad, I was one of the first teenagers to exist. We were the revolutionary generation; there were jobs for us, we had money; we could determine our own clothes by buying them ourselves. If we really couldn’t cope with the house rules at home, we could save up and rent a shared flat.
Let’s run that one again. If we really couldn’t cope with the house rules at home.
We might have considered ourselves trendsetters, but Mum and Dad were still in charge. Their house, their rules.
I have commented before in a sarcastic way of the ‘think of the cheeeeldren’ movement. It seemed mildly amusing. I hadn’t realised that there had been a total transfer of power.
Mum and Dad slog their hearts out all day to pay the mortgage on the children’s house. To buy the food that the children may or may not invite their friends to partake of. To put petrol in the car that will go wherever the children wish.
There has been a revolution more profound than the feminist movement in the 60s, and I want to know where and when it started. I have been so out of the loop where children are concerned that I hadn’t even noticed.
I would stress that these were all the cream of the teenage crop. I cannot imagine what goes on in the chav households – do they hold a knife to Dad’s throat to extract his benefit money?
I returned home courtesy of (actually nothing courteous about it) Ryanair. I was seated next to a three year old who was clearly traumatised. Traumatised by the foul language she had just heard from the air hostess. I would protect your delicate ears, but it is important that you know what was said.
The hostess used the ‘N’ word. No! As in, No, you can’t stand on the seat during take-off, No you can’t remove your seat belt. The poor little darling was beside herself. She screamed, ear piercing, glass shattering, life threatening – the threat emanating from me – screams. Her Mother pleaded in vain to be allowed to risk her precious spawn being flung headlong across the fuselage in the event of some problem. ‘She doesn’t like being restrained’. No, said the hostess. The tot was blue in the face by now, and clearly outraged. ‘Haven’t you got a toy that will amuse her’ said the hostess. ‘She doesn’t like toys’ said her Mother. ‘Can I have a Coco-cola for her’? The screaming temporarily dropped to 9 decibels at the promise of a bribe.
No! said the hostess, not until after take-off. Waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! It was that ‘N’ word again.
No sooner had the hostess taken her seat, than Mother obeyed daughter and slipped off the seat belt.
The Waaaaaaaaaaah dropped a notch or two – the hostess, who had clearly met this situation before, arrived next to us at Mach 2 speed. ‘Seat belt or we don’t take off’, she said. ‘Put it back on’.
I had a burst eardrum by the time we reached cruising speed, and the hostess allowed her to take off the restraint. By then nothing would mollify Mummy’s little darling. She screamed for an hour and 40 minutes. She stamped her foot. She threw everything that was offered to her. She kicked and bit. Then she went ballistic when she discovered that she had to be restrained again for landing.
By the time she is a teenager, her parents will be lucky to be allowed to live in the dog kennel at the bottom of the garden.
So, someone tell me, when did it start, and why?
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- May 10, 2010 at 15:39
{ 36 comments… read them below or add one }
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May 10, 2010 at 15:20 -
Luckily I’m only a benevolent uncle.
My brothers (& sisters-in-law) don’t stand for any nonsense.
My older brother yells until his lungs collapse.
My younger brother is awesome. He says something once (in a quiet voice) and is met with a highly trained Doberman type response (i.e.: instant, total & utter recognition of (literally) who’s the daddy). -
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May 10, 2010 at 15:22 -
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May 10, 2010 at 15:36 -
The parents have been infantalised, and you expect the children to act in an adult fashion. Children have rights.
Fortunately my two were brought up on the 1,2,3 principle
1. first warning induce by the word one
2. child ripped limb from limb hit over head with severed arm
3. something far worse
Never had to go beyond one, only smacked each once.
My great Grandfather died aged 92 in 1974, told me once ‘You either run your children, or they will certainly run you’
Result two perfectly normal polite human beings that know the boundaries.
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May 10, 2010 at 15:37 -
And to think they want to ban smacking.
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May 10, 2010 at 15:47 -
An excellent and enjoyable post – as ever! And hats off to that flight attendant – she’s wasted on Ryanair.
Spare a thought for those of us trying to enforce rules in the face of a constant barrage of “But Sam’s parents let him….” In my opinion, though, the battle is decided at the toddler stage, when all children first push the boundaries of parental authority. Cave in then, and ten years later, they’ll be walking all over you; stand your ground – it’s not easy; there are few forces on earth as persistent as a wilful 2-year-old – and at 14, they will already know that they can go so far and no further.
And why now? A combination of guilt-ridden 1990’s working mothers – who wants to spoil ‘quality time’ by scolding the child? – and the proliferation of material goods, so that affluent children are deluged with possessions and a consequent sense of their own importance, seasoned with a hefty dash of ‘human rights’ designed to boost their self-esteem to heroic proportions.
Sorry – going on a bit; you shouldn’t write such thought-provoking stuff!
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May 10, 2010 at 15:53
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May 10, 2010 at 15:51 -
This is something I’ve noticed a lot, and at the end of the day the parents need to man (and woman) up. Having just had my second child, I’ve started spending much more time with other parents recently, and I was having lunch with a mate of mine that has a 3-year-old son. He was describing how his son turns off the TV when he is watching, how he keeps trashing their veg patch etc. He was talking like the son was some sort of houseguest who must be tolerated and not offended, rather than his son from whom he simply shouldn’t take this sort of rubbish. I was pretty staggered, this is a successful, life-and-soul kind of guy who has a team of about 40 people under him at work.
I think somewhere along the line, parents have forgotten that they are parents, and need to reassert their parental authority. My guesses as to some of the reasons would be:
Government-sponsored climate of fear (CRB checks etc.)
Relentless adverts targeting kids
Schools “empowering” kids to nag their parents about smoking, eating, eco etc. – this is a big one for the kind of smoking outside situation you describe.Ultimately though, being a parent is serious shit, and you need to do it properly. You need to make sure your kids are occupied, and able to occupy themselves. You need to hold back the N word, but mean it when you use it and back it up with shock and awe if required. You need to make sure they respect adults.
Started somewhere around 1990.
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May 10, 2010 at 15:59 -
One more thing I forgot to write (althoug I arguably wrote more than enough). Soon we will start seeing these “kids” having kids of their own, which to me is a recipe for absolute disaster!
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May 10, 2010 at 16:00 -
I have no children .
I smoke freely .
I drink freely.
I feel sorry for parents nowadays I really do.
Especially the state sponsored spying on parents thing.
I suppose I have the Salavador Dhali thing I remember he was once asked on the South Bank show why he never had children.
He replied ,
No lika de embrios. -
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May 10, 2010 at 16:04 -
Our three children (achieving, motivated etc.) wouldn’t dare to have acted like this; and this is not in the jurassic era, the youngest being 23. Our house – our rules. Probably because we are Northern Working Class Tories and were taught how to behave, and are not afraid of the nanny policeto pass the lessons on…
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May 10, 2010 at 16:16 -
Anna – re working mothers (and fathers); the 90’s saw the concept of’quality time’ heavily promoted by the media. The limited hours spent with the child had to live up to some unattainable ideal which excluded the ‘boring bits’ of childcare – ie discipline/chores etc., turning the parent into a companion-servant dedicated to the child’s happiness.
And if you think that parents are having a hard time, try being a teacher!
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May 10, 2010 at 16:20 -
I’m pleased to say that my children are polite and civilised human beings.
Both of them were only smacked once. They didn’t like it and thereafter toed the parent line. Mind you, they’ve still got the weals after 30 years….pmsl.
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May 10, 2010 at 16:23 -
Perhaps Herod had a point?
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May 10, 2010 at 16:30 -
There was an attempt at a coup d’ état in my house when my three turned into teens. This attempt was brutally put down, the forces of law and order restored and normal service resumed, ie. I’m the Daddy, like it, lump it or leave.
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May 10, 2010 at 16:38 -
Reporter: Tell me, Mr Fields, how do you like children?
W. C. Fields: Boiled. -
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May 10, 2010 at 16:57 -
“… the Human Right’s Act …”
Ah : that’ll be the one we’re all hoping will be passed by the successor to David Cameron, in which all of Labour’s legislation is listed in its schedule.
~ · ~
Be it enacted by the Queen’s most excellent Majesty, by and with the consent and advice …
1. The enactments set out in the schedule to this act are hereby repealed.
2. This act may be cited … [the more often the better]
ΠΞ
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May 10, 2010 at 17:50 -
I should think the disappearance of a teenage boy at a feast was a blessing in disguise, considering how much they eat!
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May 10, 2010 at 18:18 -
Anna, did you actually say anything to mother or child? If not, shame on you. (Shame on me, too, as I would probably have wimped out, also) An element in the rise of child power is that it is no longer unacceptable socially. We no longer reprimand strangers for behaving badly, from litter louts, to people on mobile ‘phones in the quiet carriage to mothers of screaming toddlers on aeroplanes. This, I think is the fall-out from abuse of Human Rights legislation and too much “soggy liberal” social theory.
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May 10, 2010 at 19:07 -
Bayard, things have been going steadily downhill since the end of the War, at which point the World in general and Yookay in particular abandoned the standards that had underpinned civilization. Suddenly, where before there had been duty to one’s society and responsibility for one’s neighbours and — in particular — for one’s inferiors and those simply less fortunate, now there were ‘rights’ : rights without responsibility.
O me miserum (but in foreign, of course).
ΠΞ
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May 10, 2010 at 19:32 -
After reading all these comments, I fancied I could demonstrate my authority and ’speak’ to my children on the subject of such attitude and behaviour. “Nip it in the bud,” I thought to myself, “before they get as bad as those indulged brats Anna’s just been staying with.”
I ’spoke’. They ‘listened’ obediently.
Then they sat on me and tickled me before locking me into the downstairs lavatory for half an hour…
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May 10, 2010 at 19:44 -
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May 10, 2010 at 19:56 -
Good Evening Gloria, she said stiffly. I have been made aware that in my absence Master Thaddeus has declared that any ‘expectations’ I might have in his direction are unlikely to reach a successful conclusion. It seems he prefers Hippopotomii to Raccoons. I am devastated.
I’m off to wallow in some mud to see if that will improve things.
Can I borrow the glass eye m’dear?-
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May 10, 2010 at 22:39
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May 10, 2010 at 19:38 -
Those teenagers sound like my two.
“Dad, can I borrow the car please?”
“Sure but there’s not much petrol in how far are you going?”
“France, I’ll be back in four months”
or
“Can you lend me a few quid Dad?”
“Sure, £10, £20?”
“About three hundred should cover it, we need a cot and a baby buggy.”Their ages? 32 and 36. It just never gets any better.
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May 10, 2010 at 19:47 -
My sympathies Anna, I was on a flight recently from Fort Worth Texas to Heathrow two children screamed for the entire flight, no help from flight attendants, fellow passengers I’m sure ,for the first time in their lives considered murder, it was horrific.
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May 10, 2010 at 19:52
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May 10, 2010 at 19:58 -
The last time I was confronted (on a train) by a screaming, out-of-control toddler, whose mother seemed unable or unwilling to intervene, I screamed back at it, very loudly. Total silence ensued for some minutes (from the brat), whilst the mother shouted at me! When the noise started again I looked pointedly at the small person and opened my mouth as if to scream – it stopped again!
This technique worked on my own children too, when little. -
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May 10, 2010 at 20:02 -
Hevenin’ Mme R! I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, I’m sure, (she said, swivelling her one good eye) but if you give me a minute I’ll polish the unseeing orb on the hem of my pinny and you’re welcome to it!
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May 10, 2010 at 20:03 -
Has anyone mentioned parental responsibilities? You know, the old fahioned idea where parents are respnsible for their children, not the State or ’society’. I was considered to be rather old-fashioned, even Victorian, when my two were growing up but I am pleased to report that they are now themselves good parents. The ‘N’ word was often heard in my household. Things had to be learned and goodies had to be earned. Strict? Yes, the way I was brought up by my parents. How about the ‘D’ word? Discipline. It’s virtually a pejorative term now, which is very sad as it remains essential.
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May 10, 2010 at 20:37 -
I think I’m a bit of an ‘old fashioned’ parent too, A&TA, in that I am absolutely certain that my children wouldn’t deliberately be unkind or hurtful; I think that’s one of the most important lessons to be learned and in the course of their slap-dash upbringing I am content that the lesson has been learned.
BTW, not so very long ago my daughter was told that she must surrender her bedroom so that a guest could be accommodated and at no point, either publicly or privately, has the teenage girl uttered one word of complaint.
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May 10, 2010 at 20:43 -
Anna,
Society today has evolved to the stage where the vast majority of mothers work full time to keep up with the materialistic expectations of most family units.
From the time the first of our kids was born right through until the third had finished college and was out in the world of work my wife was there full time for them. They have alway been polite, well balanced, motivated and confident. The traditional family where real quality time is available to children is the best way and despite the loss of at least £250,000 in income over the 25 years they were growing up I would have it no other way. -
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May 10, 2010 at 21:48 -
What a hideous experience. My parents would have never put up with such behaviour from either myself or my brother – and dad wasn’t above smacking either of us if it was felt we had pushed too far over the line. Their house, their rules. We obeyed or suffered the consequences and I like to think both of us are now well adjusted members of society.
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May 11, 2010 at 07:10 -
A truly excellent post, on rhe subject of a particular bugbear of mine…
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May 11, 2010 at 08:37 -
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May 11, 2010 at 09:32 -
Hmmm difficult one
I’d like to think my five year old is turning into a nice young lady – of course she has her bratty moments but that’s her testing everything out.
I think that there is a combination of things going on:
the guilt over working – I know many an indulged child because of the hours put it by mum
rights v responsibility – this is the first breeder generation that had rights, as in “I know my…” and the lack of self-responsibility is being fed to their children in turn, it’s always someone else’s fault.
the law – or should that be the State? Apparently it knows best and makes it hard for us just to do right by our own children. It’s interesting. When a child throws a tantrum in a public place, watch the faces around. You’ll be able to spot the parents and the nots. The parents will have signs of sympathy while the nots will be wondering whether to alert the authorities!
anything for a quiet life – people are lazy. It is easier to give a kid some chocolate or a toy rather tell them to shut up and behave
Oops, went on a bit, welcome back AR
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May 11, 2010 at 14:41 -
Remember this nursery rhyme for your Grandchildren
Uncle Feg is far away
Doing things to sheep
He’ll do the same to you my dear
If you don’t go to sleepNice to have seen you AR
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