Am I just the Dad you predicted I would be?

cartoon-dad-teen

“Youth is wasted on the young” said Oscar Wilde once upon a time of privilege, talent and fawning acclaim.
The same man who would later pen the Ballad of Reading Gaol, line after anguished line about the last days of a condemned murderer, but really about his far fallen self.
 No, that’s not where Generation Snowflake are heading …
But it is amazing how the young can make their first steps into early adulthood, especially, so hard for themselves. And for those closest to them. Those who would guide them, as best they know. And pay most of their bills.
Sorry …

Continue reading

Mirror, mirror on the battle-room … bathroom … wall

cassandra mirrorIf you’ve just picked this up, please hold on a second while I compose myself. Or compose my thoughts on the riddle wrapped up in an enigma stiffed into a Russian doll hidden in a labyrinth on the outer edges of a conundrum that is my young teenage daughter’s brain, and process our latest run-in.

If you’ve just picked this up, please hold on a second while I compose myself. Or compose my thoughts on the riddle wrapped up in an enigma stiffed into a Russian doll hidden in a labyrinth on the outer edges of a conundrum that is my young teenage daughter’s brain, and process our latest run-in.
If you’ve just picked this up, please hold on a second while I compose myself. Or compose my thoughts on the riddle wrapped up in an enigma stiffed into a Russian doll hidden in a labyrinth on the outer edges of a conundrum that is my young teenage daughter’s brain, and process our latest run-in.
If you’ve just picked this up, please hold on a second while I compose myself. Or compose my thoughts on the riddle wrapped up in an enigma stiffed into a Russian doll hidden in a labyrinth on the outer edges of a conundrum that is my young teenage daughter’s brain, and process our latest run-in.
If you’ve just picked this up, please hold on a second while I compose myself. Or compose my thoughts on the riddle wrapped up in an enigma stiffed into a Russian doll hidden in a labyrinth on the outer edges of a conundrum that is my young teenage daughter’s brain, and process our latest run-in.

K had asked me the night before to call her a little earlier for school, so she could do her hair. This a lengthy and intricate process that involves hair-straighteners, clips, false starts, sighs and the occasional expletive, which we may or may not choose to ignore. Choose your battles, they say — we seem to be choosing our interventions.

Continue reading