My pilates teacher loves feng shui – all the yoga mats must be lined up just so – and hates mobile phones. So mine gets turned off during classes. When I switched it back on yesterday, I was inundated with messages from Husband, school and a friend. Sprog 2 was in sick bay. Could I go and pick her up immediately? I was a bit suss, she seemed perfectly fine when I dropped her at school. Quite buoyant. Verging on wildly exhuberant. How could so much change in such little time? Although I had been feeling a bit nauseous during pilates. I’d put it down to all that crazy hold-your-toes-and-rock business. But perhaps the left0ver chicken schnitzel I’d split with Sprog 2 over breakfast was to blame? When I picked her up, she stared bleakily at me and refused to speak above an inaudible whisper. I eventually gathered she was feeling a bit crook in the guts, with a possible sore throat. We drove home together in martyr-like silence. Her because I’d made her wait so long in sick bay, me because my day was being rapidly rewritten. We walked through the front door and I told her to slip into something more comfortable, then park herself on the sofa for a DVD festival. She skipped to her room in delight. Minutes later, she announced from the sofa that she was hungry and scarfed down her morning tea and lunch in front of Spongebob Squarepants. I retreated upstairs to seethe and search (yet again) for my old Cosmopolitan magazines, so I’d have some old feature stories to put on the blog next time I get writer’s block. Couldn’t bloody find them (yet again), but I did unearth a box of my childhood books: Anne of Green Gables, Nancy Drew, Swiss Family Robinson, a few Alfred Hitchcock mysteries, Mork And Mindy, Planet of The Apes … Ooooh, I thought, Sprog 1 is going to LOVE these. I staggered downstairs with them, eager to see the delight on her face. She walked through the door, gave them one disinterested glance, shrugged her shoulders and asked if we could go to the library. “I loved these books when I was your age,” I persisted. “I’m hungry, is there any birthday cake left?” she replied. Oh. Fine. (Not fine.) So didn’t she cop it when she discovered her Easter eggs in the pantry while searching for snacks. I went to town about how disappointing it was she’d ruined the little surprise I had for her. Feeling quite guilty about it now.
What were your favourite books when you were growing up? Would your kids love ’em or hate ’em?