Me: How’s school going?
Kid: I’m only in Kindy
Me: So, read any good books lately?
This actually happened here in the Mamamia offices last week. Painfully, it’s not my first rodeo in the arena of knowing absolutely nothing about how children work.
At what age can they read? Why do they shout/cry/emit fluids all the time? Will they ever truly appreciate the fact that they can simultaneously use the internet while someone uses the landline? Do they know what a landline is?
These are few of the many MANY questions I have about kids. My biggest question however is this: Will my brain ever switch from thinking ‘kids are gross’ to ‘I want a tiny 50%-me human wreaking havoc on this planet’?
For an indecisive over-thinker like myself it’s a mine field. I’m convinced that feelings of ‘getting clucky’ and maternal are either an inherent characteristic, hormonally triggered or imposed by expectation and I am driven to avoid all of them.
My sister is one of these. The beautiful, kind and generally well-natured (except when I borrow her clothes without asking) maternal types. Their switch has permanently been flicked. Their aura is so loving that if we lived in zero-gravity, babies would literally drift towards them like a magnet. I, however, would rather find the nearest functioning canon and be shot in the another direction.