Mental on-my-feet-all-day at work, come home to immediately – and I mean literally walk from the front door to the stove - start cooking dinner (delish bacon and pea tagliatelle for the boys, steamed veg for me). Just about to dish up at the very reasonable 6pm when Luke and Max announce they’re going for a kick about. Humph. I protested, swore actually, feeling wholly shat on that I bothered to do something nice (well I consider cooking a tasty meal from scratch a nice thing to do for people) I tried shoveling on the guilt in an attempt to make them appreciate me and my cooking but no, they just hated me even more and then bogged off.
Should I have:
- Put my foot down and insisted they stay for dinner?
- The above?
I didn’t make them stay because if I had done they would have refused dinner and sloped off to their rooms. I didn’t make them stay because I would give my right arm for them to ‘go outside and play’ more often. Kids, not mine anyway, don’t do that often enough. Sure, they are active but in today’s tech age they all spend alot more time on their electronic gadgets (perusing less than savoury webpages, I shouldn’t wonder) than out in a field, enjoying actual fresh air.
And so MM and I ate our dinner together whilst my kids were on the ‘outside’. My only regret is that I didn’t join them.
|Wonderful outdoorness this summer|