Growing Up

I had a bust up with my daughter this evening because she never does anything unless she’s asked to; she’s a teenager, 18 in November and still treats this house like a hotel. Which of course it is, for her, but i’m the disgruntled room service receiving nothing for my efforts, which I guess is also probably fair enough too. She’s a teenager who hasn’t taken GCSEs but was given GCSEs and pretty much from that moment last summer I’m imagining life must have been pretty shit, she’s growing into a woman, but has had little experience in being a woman other than whats on Tik Tok or Instagram or what ever for the last 12 months, hardly any going out, hardly any socialising, and so I do understand but probably need to sit back with a shit load of tobacco and some papers before I say anything. Just stay cool, you massive idiot otherwise I’ll end up alone in a flat suffering from pneumonia in my old age. Wise up Minister, thats my lesson learnt today, my silent cooking time whilst the girls watched Holby City and then some awful shite about winning and losing the lottery gave me ample time to cogitate and to try and make it better. 

Which I will, until she asks me to be the taxi service once more and then i’ll drive myself into this fug of bad feeling. But i’ll do it, because I love her, I just want her to empathise somehow, to just think about what she’s asking, sometimes.

And in turn i’ll think about how I react.

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