Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Minor Skirmishes in the Wars of Independence

I'm trying to work out when the 17 year old TeenTwin's:  "Moomar, CAN WE... go to a festival/ get a piercing/ go on a sleepover" (delete as appropriate)  turned into: "Moomar, WE ARE ... going to a festival, getting a piercing and going on a sleepover." etc ...

Maybe there WAS a day, now lost in the hazy mists of wine, when I encouraged the TeenTwins to grab their own destiny. To announce their intentions, rather than to ask the world for permission, but I suspect I should have added: "Except me" After all, I'm their Moom....  Mum ... they should always ask me, and not tell, if they want to go somewhere or do something, right?

Er, wrong. Apparently.

It's as if I've been climbing a really, really steep hill propelling them through 17 years in the double buggy they had when they were babies. And, having reached the summit, we're looking down a real Hovis ad style hill of cobbled steepness. And here, at the top of this hill, I HAVE to take my hands off the handles. I HAVE to let go and watch it, and them, inexorably increasing speed as it, and they, roll faster and then faster away from me. I HAVE to, or what other reason was there to climb the hill in the first place?

But, you know something? It's hard.

The TeenTwins might be just as tall as I am and have three times the attitude, but they're still my babies and, yes, I do sometimes still hold their hands when we cross the road.

Like the cartoon Wile E Coyote I want to be running in front of the buggy as a it careers headlong away from me laying rails to keep it on track but I'M NOT Wile E Coyote *Curses self* I could try chasing after them shouting out helpful advice with, in some cases, instructions and examples, with diagrams. All of which will probably be blown away on the wind.

Though even if they do hear me, they'll definitely pretend they haven't.

Obviously.

Because, well, THEY'RE TEENAGERS.

And just about when they started saying "We are.." instead of "Can we...." they blocked their ears with cotton wool too.

*Tuts*

Still they DO let me hold their hands when we're crossing the road. It's just nowadays I'm not entirely sure who is taking care of who :/



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