A DAD'S LIFE:Some children have no idea how to behave around people
THERE’S A fine line kids walk between cheeky cute and pig ignorant. And let’s face it, even when they’re cute, if they’re cheeky and not yours, they’re hard to stomach. Ignorant and not yours? Out with the Uzi.
I remember being taught table manners. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, everyone knew them. You kept your elbows off the table, worked your way in through the cutlery and tried not to dribble peas and gravy down your chin. As I grew up this knowledge often seemed redundant, I hoped it could be jettisoned for something that may, in time, prove useful. And, every now and then, a situation would arise that made me grateful for being able to perform above Neanderthal. It would feel strange at first, like left-hand drive, but muscle memory would kick in and I’d leave a place relieved. It wasn’t that I ever wanted to pander to somebody else’s ideas of appropriate behaviour, I just possessed a skill set that allowed me avoid being made uncomfortable. I’m always going to look like Lurch in a tuxedo, you raise ballet with me I will efface off, opera, nah, literary novels are a struggle, wine is best value from a box and the only use I’ll ever have for a wax jacket is to line the dog’s bed.
We’re not posh people, nor are we very cultured, but we remember to say thank you when someone does us a turn. I know, I am sounding rather northern English, salt of the earth, honest human decency, right now. “In my day . . . bloody kids” and all that but, by gum , what’s wrong with a little respect?
The missus’s great fear is that someone would feel slighted or not recognised for a gift or a favour and, as such, she drills the kids before letting them loose on the public. When hosting birthday parties she sidelines presents as guests arrive, indexes details and personalises cards so nobody could possibly consider she hasn’t acknowledged their thoughtfulness. Bit much I think, but it keeps all involved happy.
The upshot with the kids is we have one who is confident verging on cocky and another who shuts down and has to have a “thank you” wheedled out of her. Either way, there is a definitive attempt made to show that hospitality displayed towards them is appreciated. And this is usually reciprocated, but the odd time it isn’t causes my temperature to rise.
We’re getting towards the meat of the summer now, some routine has been established, and part of that routine is the freeflow of children through the front door. Big ones, small ones, funny ones, shy ones, drama queens, bookworms, budding sports jocks and preening debutantes in the making. The whole flash spectrum of society drag their fast-moulding personalities across my threshold.
Most of them I like, they’re seriously entertaining, bright and new. But every now and then, one winds me up, and keeps winding, on and on. This is the kid who kicks their way into the house, empties the CD collection onto the carpet, makes puking noises at the dinner and picks on the younger sibling who is doing her best to tag along. Worse, that sibling sees this new intruder as a source of entertainment, their awe increasing in proportion to the display of obnoxious behaviour, a lot of it directed at her. She soaks it up and I want to wring it from her before it settles in her pores.
These kids come and sit at my dinner table and bother me. Sometimes they shout and roar, sometimes they are sullen, sometimes over-confident and all-knowing. The one common factor is a lack of (oh, here comes my inner Victorian dad, wondered when he’d show up) manners; they have no idea of a formal, even loose formal structure of a way to behave around other people. They haven’t been taught it.
The thing I would resent most about not being given ground rules if I were a child again is having nothing to rebel against as a teen. How do you subvert something that isn’t there? How do you throw off the shackles that don’t bind? What do you return to when you tire of raging against the machine and want to build your own steam-powered model?
Structure is important. It holds you up and provides substance to smash down. And we all need holding up, and we all, eventually, need to kick something to pieces. Just not someone else’s house.