Child was called Mackai. Said so on his bag. But all I heard was “Kay” < off to wash my judgements away!
Mum was my age, 27ish and had clearly given up all hope. After a decade of trying to get that to sleep before midnight, I would too.
Not a judge on parenting skills, i can’t be ’til I have my own sprogs then i’m sure i’ll smite down judgements left, right and centre but her entire approach was to ASK the child, persistently, with the same upward inflection tone.
I was told what to do. No questions, no requests, told. I can still hear the spoon-knuckle-interface.
Edit: Yossarian it was one of those running up and down the aisle scenarios. Lothian Bus drivers do not, ever, ever, ever ever ever get out the cab ’cause this one time a driver got stabbed. Fair enough.
I only spoke after 10 minutes of devil stares. I should add I am the spawn of two senior social workers who literally brought work-children-home.
Where’s the psychiatrist ?