Thursday, 13 October 2011

Hearing

None of my kids have ever passed a hearing test. In fact, Babe failed one yesterday at school. We got A Letter About It. I'm pretty sure in my kids' cases it is because they are so damned ignorant laid back. The letter even said it may be a concentration fail. May??

I blame their father who also has selective hearing failure, but that’s usually a male gene. At least, it’s generally men who display it, right? But for some reason my entirely female offspring also display amazingly high skills at not hearing the words “bedtime”, “tidy up” “can you (do xyz)” and in fact anything with the words “no” or “stop”.

Thing One is going through a stage – please God, just a stage – of “emo-ism”. That’s Goth with Emotions to us oldies. She draws lovely images of blood dripping corpses and talks about death casually and dismissively. She has headphones permanently attached to her head while she listens to songs scream about angst and pain and whatever. I Do Not Like This in front of the Babe, who is impressionable and I frequently… daily… ask her to give it a rest. She is a typical know-it-all teenager though and dismisses my concerns.

Yesterday, Babe came home with a painting just for her big sister. It had the typical line of blue at the top and green at the bottom for the grass and sky. It had a grey blob and lots of red blobs. “That’s the rock and this is the blood where it killed someone.” Babe explains.

Thing One looks at me in horror, caught between laughter and remorse. “I am so sorry I did this to her!” she says.

Should have bloody listened to me, kiddo. Now I get to pay for counselling for the 30 kids in Babe’s class who saw this and it’s coming out of your pocket money!

“Eh?” she says, moving her earphones back into position with a grin.

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