As parents we are forever swapping tales and horror stories about the various things our children have done. Of course some children are more mischievous than others, but even the best behaved children play up at times. I can't help but wonder if perhaps it is some sort of karmic payback for the merry dance we led our own parents when we were young.
By most peoples standard I was a "very good girl" however though I may not have been naughty, mischievous or played up often, when I did, it was memorable. So, today, to make a change I'm not going to tell you Ethan's latest antics, I'm going to share a few from my own (sordid?!) past.
First up, when I was about 5 months old, I escaped. I only know a few details to this story, but the basic information is that my Mum was at home with me. There were some work men at the house and they must have left the front door open a crack. My Mum was busy in the kitchen and she hadn't heard from me in a while, she'd left me in the living room (I suppose just crawling around and amusing myself for a bit!). The next thing she knew there was a knock at the door. She answered it to find a lady from ACROSS THE ROAD holding me. "Is this your baby? I found her crawling around in my daffodils!". My Mum was shocked to say the least. At 5 months I'm not going to take any blame for this, but I suspect this was a very big wake up call for my Mum in terms of how fast babies can move and how you can never assume they will stay where you leave them! To get to this ladies garden I had to crawl out of the house, down the steps, through the garden, over the road (not getting run over) and then into her garden. It's a miracle this story ended the way it did really!
Fast forward to 18 months old. This one is pretty simple and pretty silly. I chose to cover my head in a kitchen cloth and run around the house. I ran into a door handle. I still have a Harry Potter shaped scar on my forehead to prove it.
At 3 years old I received my first smack. Basically I escaped from my house (sense a theme here?) and ran off with an older boy who lived on my road to go for a walk to visit "Percy Pylon". This was the 80s, people weren't so scared of pylons then, and I worshipped this one! My parents went spare whilst I was gone. As soon as I got back my Dad gave me a smack. One of only 3 I can ever remember receiving... If you are wondering at this point if Ethan has ever escaped from our house, he hasn't. But he did escape from my friends house taking two of his friends with him. We found them just about to run into the road. Keep your doors locked and bolted (and alarmed!) people!
On my first day of school, my brother had the audacity to be born. This meant that I had neither of my parents with me to take me there. On my first day! Oh, woe is me! My Grandma was taking me and I decided to make it difficult. I insisted on wearing two of everything. Two vests, two pants, two dresses, two belts and so on. You get the picture. Then I made the poor OAP push me the mile to school in my buggy... I obviously wasn't in the least bit concerned about making a good impression in front of the other children and looking 'cool'. Around the time of my brothers birth I decided to play up one more time, this time for my parents benefit. I think it was my last act of defiance r.e. no longer being the only child. Quite simply, I fetched the entirety of my parents record collection (quite a collection, ranging from rare 1930s French records to original beetles and stones) into the living room, sat down and pissed all over them. Nice. Oh. Also around this time I told my Mum lies about the dinner ladies at school, I told her they refused to serve me food, or as I once told Mum "they would only give me half a cake, they said as I was so small I didn't need a whole one". Lies. All lies. Poor Mum, she phoned up the school to complain about them and I was exposed. How embarrassing for her!!
As I got older, these instances of naughtiness reduced (or I got better at hiding them or blaming things on my brother- younger siblings do have a use!). That was until I discovered alcohol at 16... Let's just say the time I was dropped off from a friends party and was brought to the door by my friends Dad, who handed me over to my Dad saying "She's a bit tired and emotional" was not my finest moment. I was dressed as an extra from Rocky Horror so my poor Dad had to stagger up the stairs whilst I was dressed in stockings and suspenders. I chose that moment to spew everywhere, covering every wall (even the ceiling!) and the carpets on the way upstairs. I'm guessing my parents thought they'd been through the projectile vomiting and bathing their child stage a good few years before this. This was by far my least embarrassing drunken episode but lets leave those stories for another post...
In surmise, I think that however much our children wind us up, stress us out and ruin our possessions, it's more than likely we did the same to our parents.. It's like a right of passage. Ethan may not have weed on my music collection yet, but he did offer me a cup of his wee to drink in the bath tonight.
Please share stories of what you did to your parents if you have any!! I'd love to hear them :)