After briefly considering trying to wrestle the pouch from the woman, I dismissed the idea. One of the issues of being a large man is, if discovered fighting with a Miss Marple look-a-like in the Co-op, few people are likely to believe that you didn’t start it. So I took another pouch from the shelf and began to walk away. She muttered something as I left. I ignored her (and the stares of the other customers) deciding instead to take refuge in the cheese aisle.
If you were so inclined, you could spend the entire 9 months between conception and birth reading book after book, each of which ‘guarantees’ to give you the authoritative and complete lowdown on the whole baby ‘experience’.
They are, I am sure, a positive thing – I’m not a fan of these manuals myself, but that’s just personal preference; I think there’s a point where preparation can teeter into obsession. That said, there’s a topic that none of these baby books devotes so much as a word to:
THE POO FACE
As a SAHD, one of the perennial issues to be faced is the arrival of the showboating parent. What do I mean by this? It’s simple really, a mum (or mainly) dad who arrives at the park with something to prove. They probably don’t get to do this type of activity as often as I do (lucky them) and are determined to make a show of how much fun their kid is having. By ‘making a show’ I mean making the other parents aware of just how amazing they are.
I used to pride myself on my… on my… on my… you know… my… collection of words… the ones I use.. when I… you know speak.
I’ve just Googled it.
I used to pride myself on my vocabulary.
Seriously I did.
Parents today are, as they always have been, over-stretched, over-tired and over-come with the unceasing desire do the very best for their children.
Of course, in an ideal world, screen time wouldn’t be necessary at all. But please, take a look out your window, turn on your screens and read the news – it’s far from an ideal world.
So, can we all stop with this parent-shaming please?