Friends from overseas come to visit in the summer, and their family of five is balm to our souls: funny, smart, kind, with excellent appetites. We talk about parenting - what we’ve received then, what we try to practise now.
And we slip up. Of course we do.
Generally, though, I think this and particularly this sum up our overall view of trying to raise a decent person: don’t badmouth them, and *never* badmouth or laugh at them in front of them. Stop forbidding them arbitrary actions. Don’t deny their feelings. Allow them a private life. Get them to help you.
The key idea for me, which I’m thinking more and more makes up about 80% of a good person, is helping them to understand consent. Don’t pick a child up and pass them round like a doll; don’t force them to kiss or touch someone they don’t want to (I remember my grandfather making it clear the money on his bedside table was for grandchildren who were well-mannered enough to say good morning to him politely, with two kisses pressed to his sweaty cheek. NEVER have I felt so righteous, even at the age of ten or eleven, in my refusal to go near the fucking creep). Teach them that any kind of contact needs to be consented to by the other party - a hug in the line for assembly; a kiss in the playground; a playful smack on a sibling’s bottom. Teach them - now! It’s easier if you do it now, surely? - about ongoing consent, about enthusiastic consent, about withdrawal of consent. Teach them that if someone does something to *them* without their consent, they themselves have done *nothing* wrong. If someone doesn’t want a second slice of cake, then leave them alone. If a guest chooses an early night (AND FRANKLY WHO WOULDN’T WHEN THE CHAT IS AS FUN AS THIS) then that’s their choice. Let people make a decision, and respect it.
We try to stick to those rules too. But oh the challenge when one of them wears an outfit that makes your teeth fizz with loathing, or another really really really really doesn’t want to go to a sports session with all their friends, and you *know* they always have a good time there, always, and it seems a lot like they only want to stay because they know you’re about to cook a cake they can lick the bowl for, or the other wants the cup with no lid even though they’ll just slowly pour the contents into their meal… But we have to live by our sword. So I admire the outfit, or sit and listen about why they don’t fancy the sports session, or give them the cup and put a towel under their plate.
Anyway, the friends and J and I spent those evenings drinking gallons of gin gimlets and that also makes anyone feel like they’re doing everything a-OK, so, good.
Gin Gimlets
2 oz gin
¾ oz sugar syrup
¾ oz lime juice
Shake over ice, strain, drink. All is well in the world. Good spirits will continue to ooze from your pores in the morning.