Going Gently Insane: Modern Parenting is No Joke

I've subliminally fallen for the creed of gentle parenting. Am I mad? Are we all?

Scenario One

Air steward at departure gate holding my eldest son’s passport: “Well hello! Who are you then?”

My son: “I’m the police. I’m here to arrest you. You’ve been stealing, everyone knows.”

Air steward: zero percent amused.

Me, manically: “Ahahahahah the things these kids say.” [WTAF]

Scenario Two

Air steward at same departure gate watching my youngest son slip through my fingers, fly under the barriers and sprint down the air bridge: “Can you stop your child?”

Me in pursuit while carrying a Yoyo, rucksack, child’s rucksack, Pret bag: “OhmygoshImsosorry. Eldest STAND like a statue ‘til I get your little brother back and don’t speak to straaaaaannnnnngers.”

Youngest: ‘You can’t catch me BUTT TRUMPET’.

Scenario Three

Me: “Yes darling I understand how frustrating it is to be standing in the passport queue. Everyone feels the same, but we really mustn’t keep pinging the nylon ropes between these balusters. It’s extremely discourteous to everyone else stuck here too.”

Eldest son: continues pinging.

Youngest son: joins in pinging.

Me in desperation as I have no choices to present: “Ok. There’s a point at stake for whoever can behave nicely in this queue.”

Eldest son: “No-one cares mum.”

Youngest son locking eyes with a greying gentleman aged circa 62: “He’s a dirty old man! He’s a dirty old man!”

Me: “I’m so sorry…everyone.”

Children aged 2 and 5. FML.