"But I was your age..." or why parents deceive children Bashny.Net

When we talk with children — even if we consider ourselves advanced young parents — we often repeat "But I was your age...". Next is a list which gives the Oscars, allowed on Olympus and allow the halo and wings to appear personally.

I caught myself on the fact that I say:





"I always did homework by myself, parents even had no idea what we go through. It was interesting, you know?!"

As it really is:

Dad took the sock in his washing with soap explained to me, a humanist to the bone, the process and the principle of diffusion. And yet his drawings still hang in the gallery "They are the pride of the school", of course, under my initials. Mom deliriously complex dictation read aloud to me when I was training for the Olympics.

And both parents as pretty sitting at the coffee table with thick cardboard, scissors and correctly sharpened pencils to create a masterpiece layouts of complex body geometry. Well, the little things: the little brother to the stag spoke with a chemist (his once classmate) that he asked me on the main classification about the fact that I can pronounce, for example, about the effect of amino acids on the human body. And God forbid, no formulas.

Without the help of parents and family I would have never got that medal. But today, the memory and ego are playing tricks on me, praising all my accomplishments and forgetting the contribution of others.

 

"I always helped around the house without a reminder!"

As it really is:

Without a reminder I just ruined an expensive closet of my moms, letting the dresses that she brought the Pope from the Italian missions, for tailoring to the unique collections of clothing for discos. Of course, no masterpiece has not experienced even a single publication. I was baking cookies, beautiful on the outside, stone inside. Parents humbly biting, praised and went to the dentist.

But to fill the bed I was only high school, and thoroughly clean the room — I simply have the motivation to be in comparison not worse friends. Floors after I had to wash if I was packing, I found them not always immediately, the hamster I had lost — and he happily 2 weeks doing a nest in my mother's winter things. Did very successfully, I must say, mom was in shock when he was found. The only thing I managed is washing dishes. Meditative somehow I slowed down and simply enjoyed.





"Why you can't properly manage their time?! Because it is simple, don't be late!"

In actual fact, I was flying to school at full speed for an hour before the start of classes just because permanent was in love. This continued all through middle school, but older classes well, if we a bunch of girls came in five minutes before the bell. However, of late I hated — because the parents were late everywhere. My habit to the exact appearance came rather out of denial and protest reality.

"If you were interested in how I cook, you would have to cook at least 8 dishes completely on my own!" To be honest, its the first meals I started cooking when I started to meet my future husband. Before cooking, I had the most mediocre performances. And to be a happy teenager this fact I did not interfere.

 

"Yes, a bunch of the same interesting things that you can do! To go to the Museum or to the exhibition!"

This phrase is the son of the amplitude of the rolling of eyes. And, if you rewind time, then I didn't care what kind of exhibitions are held in our nice city. At best I was interested in the posters of movie theaters and the schedule of the discos. The cultivation ended and consisted of "Mom, we go for a walk?"

 



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What I'm saying? Yes to the fact that we can't lose the memories, which change under the action of time, you cannot lose your sense of humor and self-criticism. And still need to return to ourselves – to who we were in childhood, just before the to broadcast a new lecture about how it should be.

Let our children will be children! To cook they will be taught Jamie Oliver to make out own little children, and victory in school may be your common — so what? So even more fun! published

 

Author: Anna Dayanidhi

 



Source: ezhikezhik-ru.livejournal.com/57121.html