Any parent will tell you that they will do practically anything for their children, and it’s true. We will. But that doesn’t stop us rolling our eyes sometimes, and thinking REALLY??? I experienced a prime example of this last night.
My evening started with me falling through the door and practically kissing the ground in relief. After working over time and doing seventeen days with only one day off I was overjoyed at the prospect of a three-day break.
Once I’d finished worshiping the floor I dragged myself upstairs and jumped into my pink Miss Piggy pyjamas. Yes, I confess, I’m a pyjama junkie. When I get home from work, no matter what time it is, if I’m not going out I get my pj’s on. If its cold I’m in my onesie
At eight in the evening, we finally sat down to eat tea. And that’s when my daughter gave me my Really? moment.
My phone started ringing. I looked at the caller display to see it was my daughter’s boyfriend.
Now, her boyfriend turned twenty-one this week and as my eldest has turned eighteen, which I have mentioned in a previous post (Keep up kids) they had gone out to celebrate.
Let me assure you when your daughter is downtown drinking and her boyfriend suddenly calls you – I don’t care who you are – you panic.
So, I rush to answer the call imagining my daughter laying in the hospital, only to find out she isn’t injured, far from it. She hasn’t even made it into the pub because she forgot her ID!
I’m sure, you know where this is going… Half an hour later I found myself in the passenger seat of the car. My other half driving. Him in a purple T-shirt saying fart now loading, me in my bright pink Miss Piggy pyjamas, trying to hide them with a cardigan. Driving through the centre of town to deliver my daughters ID so she can continue with her night out.
I don’t know if your town is the same as mine, but around here we have a bunch of youths who like to drive fast cars. They supe them up with big exhausts and drive around the one way system that they name The Circuit with techno music blaring from the double woofer they installed in the boot.
As my fella and I pulled up at the traffic lights, surrounded by the next generation, in our seven seater family car. Him in his purple T-shirt, me in my Miss Piggys. Windows down, Barry Manilow playing from our standard speakers. I have to marvel at the lengths we go to for our children… next time she can go to McDonalds and stay sober.