Do we let our children grow up too soon? Are we doing it all wrong?
I look at my towering eldest and compare her life at 11 with mine. It’s like we’re from different planets.
When I was a kid, going out never got more exotic than honey king prawns at the local Chinese restaurant.
Last night, I arranged a sleepover for the eight-year-old so the eldest and I could have sliders in a trendy bar then head to Luna Park for a few hours.
We met the eldest’s bestie from waaaaaay back in daycare at The Botanist in Kirribilli. Her mum and I have become great friends over the years and organise regular catch ups for the kids (and us).
We mused about the importance of keeping connections for our daughters that are removed from the playground. So often self esteem can become toxically centered around what happens at school. Having a friend who’s not part of that (sometimes vicious) cycle is something to cherish. The girls only see each other every few months, but they quickly pick up where they left off.
We shared the most delicious slider burgers at the bar: chicken schnitzel (above) and regular beef, with a side of beer battered fries. Yuuuuuuum.
Then we headed through the clown’s mouth for the two-for-one-after-6pm tickets at Luna Park.
I decided my razed womb wasn’t up to being spun around on the Tango Train, so the grown-ups gossiped on various benches while the kids screamed and laughed.
As the sun set and the lights came on, the night took on a magical quality that made me smile big and wide.
It was so lovely to share those carefree hours with my daughter, in the dwindling years before she won’t be caught dead hanging out with me on a Friday night.
Song of the day: Bruce Springsteen “Tunnel of love”