It seems that the children of the pride are now very much of the i-generation. Mu came home from school the other day and informed us all she'd spend her Friday 'Golden Time' on the iPods. When Mam asked what did she do on them she replied "just iPod stuff". Dad then questioned whether it was an iPod or iPad (trying to stay down with the kids) but Mu insisted that it was the pod - despite Dad's protests that "if you can play games on it and take photos it's an I P A D".
As it goes, my experience of children generally is that they are ALL born the i-generation, regardless of what era you're birth day is - and parents (and favourite toys) spend the first 5 years of their lives trying to make them the Others-Generation so they aren't known as "that-kid-who-can't-share" when they reach school.
This point was proved the other day in church, allow me to set the scene...
...As you may or may not be aware we all attend church on a Sunday evening (as well as the morning but that's by the by). Half of the pride attend in their pyjamas and, more recently, slippers and dressing gowns, I'll let you imagine which members this applies to. Mam also packs a picnic for the pyjama wearing half of the clan for during the sermon, to keep them quite(r) and still(er).
Last Sunday this happened...
Mam (in full, heartfelt voice): Be thou my vision o...
Roo: Mam. Apple
Mam (in hushed whisper): You need to talk quieter, darling...Thou my best thought in the...
Roo (at the same volume but with the intonation of someone who is talking in a whisper) : Mam. Apple
Mam (in hushed whisper): That's not how you ask...Waking or sleeping thy..
Roo (normal volume) Mam. Apple. Pleeeeeeese (punctuated with a cheeky grin)
Mam: I don't have one darling...Be thou my wisdom, be...
Roo: MAM. APPLE. PLEEEEEEESE (no cheeky grin)
Mam: Roo, I don't have any apples with me, we'll have a cracker in a minute...Thou my great father and...
Roo: NO, mammy! Apple. APPLE.
Mam: No Roo, we'll have a cracker in a minute...and I with thee one...
Roo: APPLE APPLE APPLE
Mam: have the cracker now...Be thou my breast plate, my...
Roo: Mammy, cracker gone, HURRAY ROO (thows his arms in the air in celebration) Apple pleeeeeease
Mam: (still whispering) there are none...Thou and thou...
Mam: we'll have a chocolate sandwich in a minute...Still be thou my...
Mam: Have the chocolate sandwich...ruler of all.
Roo: Mammy, no sankyou (deposits crust of chocolate sandwich in her hand, minus the chocolate spread which he's licked off the bread) Apple please!
Mam: no, we'll have something in a minute
Roo: NO SANKYOU, APPLE
Now the music had finished there was the sound of rustling and shuffling from every seat behind us (we were sat on the front row) as an entire congregation rooted round their handbags in the hope of a stray apple they could roll down the aisle towards us.
Mam: (still whispering) How about an orange?
The sermon begins, and what is perhaps, the most quiet part of church is happening. Mu and Karoo also start munching but, sensing the tone in Mam's hushed whispers just take what they are given.
Roo: Mammy, orange
Mam: (whispering) here...
Mam: this is orange
Roo: NO MAMMY ORANGE
Mam: sshhhhh, this one?
Roo: No, orange
Mam: This one?
ROo: no, orange
Mam: this one?
Roo: no, orange
Mam: this one?
Roo: no, ORANGE!
Mam: those were all pieces of orange...I don't have any more orange?
Mam: (at this point her face tensed like it'd been hit with an unexpected shot of botox, and, still whispering but now through gritted teeth) I d o n ' t h a v e a n a p p l e
Roo: APPLE APPLE APPLE APPLE AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH
As he shouted this (the last part something Mam was wishing she was shouting) he began to rock the push chair which he'd been strapped to from side to side making the wheels alternatively leave the floor. The preacher is carrying on as if nothing is happening and the handbag rustling has hit a frantic pace, with some people now actually getting onto the floor in order access the inner compartments better.
At this Mam decides enough is enough as it's time to make an extraction.
Easier said then done when a raging toddler is lashed to a 3 wheeled pushchair.
In the end she managed to get the clips unclipped and drag - that is the only word I can use, and in fact, the only method she could use - Roo out of the pushchair leaving a trail of crackers, bread crumbs and orange segments as she stuffed him under her arm and left the room. 2 closed doors and a sound proof wall away, he maintained his stand. We heard it.
And that was the end of the matter - well, for those of us that could handle Mam's serious failure to be packing a Breburn.