The centre of attention

Watching parents interacting with their children and listening to their conversation, it is evident who rules the roost. The household seems to revolve around the youngsters.

For example, a dinner invitation or outing is vetoed by the adults as their little one has a test the next day and needs all the support he or she can get.

When we were growing up, everything centred around the man of the house. The oft-repeated phrase ‘Wait till your father gets home' was the answer to a plethora of queries ranging from ‘Can we eat now? I'm hungry' to ‘Can I go to my friend's place to borrow his science exercise book?'

(In case you're wondering what an exercise book is and whether it has anything to do with fitness advice, all it refers to is a book in which you write. We were told off by the nuns at school for using unworthy substitutes such as note book or, even worse, copy book).

It is no secret that women of my mother's generation pampered the men in their lives, and the special attention they received was seen by the children as absolutely normal. They took it for granted that his word was law.

We never made the mistake of playing one parent against the other. Actually, we weren't nearly as smart as this new set as it never occurred to us. Either we were plain dumb or realistic enough to realise that doing something so underhand would only bring us the pain of punishment.

It was incredible how they joined forces when it came to confronting us with matters such as a test performance or a little white lie. When neither was willing to listen to what you considered was a plausible explanation, the only alternative was to let them have their say. In such cases silence was indeed golden.

In direct contrast to this scenario, I have witnessed children turning the tables completely when confronted by parents about a perceived wrong-doing. By the time the child finishes an indignant rebuttal, the parent is ready to offer an apology for being such a doubting Thomas. The youngster will make the adult feel guilty for taking someone else's word against his. Thereafter all facts will be double-checked before being presented to this unjustly maligned soul.

Watching parents allowing children to argue their way out of uncomfortable situations is an eye-opener. Should we be envious of their lot in life or thankful for what we had? It wasn't that we were ignored or not looked after. It was just that there was a certain hierarchy and we all knew our place. The line that could not be crossed was very clear to us and we were content to toe the line.

Hats off to the women who did the delicate balancing act between a husband used to having his creature comforts catered to without having to say a word and the endless demands of children.

Most households I see today are run on the whims and fancies of the little ones in the house. It isn't mum or dad who calls the shots. It is obvious the wee one wields the whip hand. The sight of adults running round in circles to do the bidding of such small creatures would be hilarious if it weren't pathetic.

An outsider witnessing this pandering and pampering is usually given an apologetic smile or laugh by way of explanation as if to say, "I really can't help it. I am powerless". That's when the observer feels like saying, "Don't make your child your slave-driver."

I firmly believe in the roles of parents and children being clearly defined, with no blurring of authority.