Don’t you love the creative nonsense which comes home from prep and school? It seems I’m always having to sort some outrageous bit of misinformation out.
“I DON’T WANT TO GET MARRIED! I DON’T WANT TO GET MARRIED!” Miss4’s screaming from the dinning table was enough to distract me from my laptop. Yep, it was that loud.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
Master9 pointed at his little sister.
“A boy told her he wants to marry her,” he grinned.
“I DON’T WANT TO GET MARRIED!” screamed Miss4 again.
“You don’t have to,” I assured her, and she seemed to calm down.
I’m used to my children stating they don’t want to marry – Miss19 started telling me this from about the same age. While I just role with it now, for years I would try to tell her she might one day and she can’t really know yet. It’s been 15 years and she hasn’t budged, but I wonder how much of this is plain old stubbornness and habit. Anyway it doesn’t matter because I’ve changed my tune and to be perfectly honest I realize I don’t really care if my kids do or don’t: it’s not my decision. I just want them to be happy.
“I’m staying my age I am now,” she said, crossing her arms in a manner which brokered no argument. “And I’m staying here in this house.”
“Don’t you want to grow up?” I asked. “Maybe have a family?”
She gave this some thought.
“I will have two children named Tracey and Bruce,” she said finally.
“What beautiful names,” I said, and now she looked at me like I was an idiot.
“They’re your names,” she said with tone. “You and Mummy.”
“So you’ll have two kids but you’re not going to get married,” I confirmed with her. “Who’s going to be the daddy?”
She gave this a few seconds thought too before finally settling on the boy who asked her to marry him today.
“So why don’t you want to get married then?” asked Master9.
“Because they cut your bum,” she said, starting to get worked up again. “You get married and they cut your bum.”
“What?” I said, then repeated it for good measure. “What?”
“When you get married,” she explained to me like I was a simpleton, “they cut your bum to get the baby out!”
Yep, there’s always something colourful and dreadful to sort out once they start mixing with other kids. And in my experience there’s only one surefire way to set things to right.
“Tracey!” I called out, finally finding my voice. “Your daughter has something to tell you!”
“I don’t want to get married!” Miss4 shouted out.
I gently directed Miss4 into the office where her mother was working.
“Now tell her why,” I said, and shut the door behind her.
Parenting is easy when you know how. Maybe I should write a book.
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