Yesterday I went to collect Olivia from school, and huddled by the wall, shivering slightly, ensconsed in my hoodie that is definitely a never-to-be-seen-outdoors item of comfort clothing. I stood by too mum-friends, both in sensible anoraks, and Anne explained to us how she was needing to grab her daughter and run as she had some litany of tasks to do. Hence, she was zealously guarding first place in the queue.
And then, through the door, walked Youth.
Someone’s school-girl auntie, in a trendily disguised school kilt and funky punky hair and makeup, the epitomy of 16 year old gorgeous freshness. And potential.
‘Oh, look, Youth just walked in,’ I said, and the three of us laughed, and cringed a little.
And then the bell clanged over our heads, and we went in to rummage for the kids’ coats, and Anne took her rightful place at the top of the queue… and hilariously, adding insult to injury, the walking embodiment of youngness walked straight by her, to the classroom door, and got her nephew out first!
Yes. No age before beauty here… Youth laughs at your rules and tradition, it respects our stature and experience not one bit…
12 comments:
I didn't realise people queue to pick up their kids! When I was in primary school we all queued to get on the bus, which took about 40 minutes to get to our stop, and from there we cycled home... but where I'm from primary school starts at 6 or 7 years old, not 4!
but seriously? are there queues? does each kid get 'handed over'?
Oh god. You'll set Danielle off again... all idependent German children... yes, the kids don't get handed over til there's someone there to pick them up.
When they're older they can go by themselves... but now they just ... don't.
he he, yes, we also cycled five miles into the town on our own, from the age of, don't know, nine? and we'd visit friends who lived maybe one mile away on our own even younger...
Country girls!
Those were different days though, too...
Youth- There is no substitute.
Youth can piss me off, too. But sometimes (like when they're seventeen and oblivious) they can be adorable, too.
In nursery school no one got passed over without checking either - just now, my son gets dumped in the park and no one checks who picks him up. I've had to "return" another lost boy twice now. That boy is six.
Phew! A validating overprotection story!
Your woman didn't piss me off, no, no, she was brazen and gorgeous.
Your recounting and yearning for that 15-18 year old you gives me weird feelings. You had a very different youth to me that's for sure.
I don't miss it at all, I much prefer what squishier me has in store.
Ah, it's always good to see that. Healthy and encouraging!
Perhaps it's because my kids have sucked the youth out of me like alien life force sucking octopuses tentacled onto my face? Ha :)
But yeah. 15-18... I went to gigs. I danced danced danced. I conversed late into the night. I drank a lot. I met my husband... I had sex. I met people. I read books.
And I wanted and wanted and wanted a baby the while :)
I'm actually really curious about it all now. I did those things, some good, some bad, but I don't miss it or want it back at all. Not one bit.
I really wonder why.
Because you're Happy and Content?
Hahah. I spit on that vile notion!
Well I am, but even when I wasn't, for as far back as I can remember, I never really wanted to go back to any other age.
Maybe I just get bored easily.
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