It’s been a full on, funny old week so far. Two out of the three boys started their
Easter holidays, with the last one breaking up at close of play on
Tuesday. This is a lot earlier than the
rest of the schools in the area, and so it made sense to take advantage of the
theme parks and avoid the overcrowding that so often happens during the school
holidays.
And so it was that we decided on Legoland Windsor. This is well known to us, being practically
on our doorstep, and has served us well over the years from toddlerhood to pre-teens. Not only is it the place where the boys
learned to face their fears on the Dragon ride in the Knights Kingdom and laughed
at the pictures of Grandma in the log flume at Pirate Falls, but it is also small
enough in which the older ones can roam independently, safe in the knowledge
that they are tall enough for the rides and reveling in their freedom – all character
building stuff. So it was that we waited in the house, my 12 year old excited to see two companions for
a day out of fun and a sleepover. One of
his friends was well known to us, having been a lively part of our lives for a
while, but the other child was an unknown – he had been in the class for a
number of years, but in the weird way of children, had recently been discovered
by my son as a ‘new friend’. His mother arrived to drop him off and warned
me that he wasn’t unsociable, just ‘a bit shy’ in new company. As soon as she left, I could hear her shy and
retiring son bellowing through the walls of the playroom as they indulged in a
last minute game of Xbox, so I knew it would be all right.
As the three elder boys charged off into the primary coloured world of our
destination, I had a very excited 9 year old on my hands who took control and insisted
on visiting every ride, regardless of whether or not his mother was as
enthusiastic. So we got soaked, we went up and we went down, leaving our
stomachs in mid air and the contents thankfully still inside. We avoided the throngs of school trips by
going where they didn’t, and all in all had a great time. The three elder boys
met us for lunch and then scarpered, and we wandered amiably around Miniland
and the Star Wars exhibition (which was Little Man’s favourite). And Little Man sat patiently whilst an artist
drew his caricature. I always think a
caricature is interesting – no matter what image you present to the world, the
caricaturist picks up mercilessly on your flaws, and exaggerates prominent
features from which you can’t hide. You
are forced to not take yourself so seriously.
This brings me in a roundabout way to two blogs that resonated with me
this week. One was http://www.mama-andmore.com/2014/03/bossy-where-do-you-stand.html and the other was http://reprobatemum.com/2014/03/03/social-media-im-not-waving-im-drowning/
The first posting was about a mother, who on being told that her 5 year old
daughter was bossy, gently and tactfully confronted the stereotyping that took
place within the school, and thus by society at large. Why would a girl be called bossy, in a
situation where a boy would be called a leader?
Does that word have negative connotations? Would it not be better to use that ‘bossiness’
and channel it positively to ensure that girls become good leaders rather than
class bullies? Would that bossiness then
become an awareness of others, and a willingness to listen to others without
losing focus? The second post was written by a successful business leader who
was drowning in self doubt brought on by social media – her carefully selected Facebook
images not matching real life, the superficiality of the medium, and the gulf
between the digital identity and reality.
Both blogs are well worth a read, and reflects on the way that we not
only characterize ourselves and our kids, but that in some ways, we become our
own caricatures.
Legoland was a great success, the older boys still had enough energy for
their sleepover, and Little Man had his drawing and a stuffed dragon toy that
he had won on one of the stalls. The ‘new
friend’ was collected by his mother the next day and I assured her that he had
been a star. She admitted that she had
had ‘The Chat’ (you know, the one where you tell your son to behave, say Please
and Thank You and on no account to reveal that you love your mothers’ arms
because they are really flappy and you wonder if she will take off one day),
and that he had told her not to worry.
This morning, Little Man was the first to reach the station platform on
the start of a journey to London after a particularly slow ticket office
experience. The train was just about to leave. He waved his arms at the guard who was just
about to signal the all clear. As we veered into view, Little Man was
explaining to the guard that his mummy had a sore ankle and couldn’t run as
fast as he could. The guard let us on
the train.
Bossy…Leader – you decide, but
one thing is for sure, our kids are definite characters.
If you enjoyed this, please consider nominating me for a BritMums blogging award, many thanks!
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