There seems to be a natural order to family life. Little girls often adore their fathers, and little boys think their mothers can solve almost anything. Hence, Daddy’s little girl and Mammy’s boy.
For a while, everything runs smoothly. Dad can fix broken toys, reach the high shelf, and remove spiders. Mam knows where everything is, even when it is lying directly in front of you.
Then the teenage years arrive, and the whole arrangement changes.
Parents who were once considered wise become embarrassing almost overnight. They wear the wrong clothes, say the wrong things, and insist on asking questions such as “Where are you going?” and “What time will you be home?”
Rules are described as ridiculous. Parents understand nothing. The world has changed completely since they were young, which, according to a teenager, was sometime around the invention of electricity.
Of course, hormones are busy creating confusion in the young mind. Parents are not entirely innocent either. They still see the child who once held their hand crossing the road and cannot understand why that same child now walks several yards ahead in case friends see them together.
Eventually, it passes. The teenager becomes human again and may even speak without being asked a direct question.
Then comes the wedding.
A large amount of money is spent on one day. Mothers cry during the ceremony. Fathers pretend they have something in their eye. There are speeches about childhood, family, and love, with a few stories that the bride or groom would have preferred to keep private.
The father dances with his daughter and remembers the small girl who once stood on his feet while they moved around the kitchen. He has already handed her over at the altar, and by that point most of the deposits have been paid, and there is no sensible way back.
Afterwards, the parents return home and discover the unexpected pleasure of an empty house.
There is food in the fridge. The bathroom is free. Nobody comes in at two in the morning trying to be quiet and knocking over a chair.
The empty nest, it turns out, is not the tragedy everyone warned about.
It does not last.
Soon the children, now married or living with partners, discover that parents are useful again. Sometimes they need advice. Sometimes they need sympathy. Quite often, they need money.
The Bank of Mum and Dad is always open. There are no forms, no credit checks, and very little chance of full repayment.
Then the grandchildren arrive, and the whole family structure changes again.
The grandchild becomes the centre of everything. Photographs are taken every five minutes. Every small achievement is praised. A first step is treated like an Olympic medal.
The parents watch their own parents spoil the grandchild in ways they were never spoiled themselves.
“We were never allowed to eat in the car,” they say.
“That was different.”
“How was it different?”
“It was our car.”
The grandchild is allowed into the back seat with chips, nuggets, ketchup, and a milkshake. The smell remains there for several days, but nobody seems concerned.
When the original children had a tantrum, they were told to stop it or go to their room. When the grandchild has one, the grandparents say, “The poor wee thing is tired,” and offer a biscuit.
The parents look on in amazement. These are apparently the same people who raised them.
Grandchildren can do very little wrong. If they are clever, musical, or good at sports, it comes from our side of the family.
If they are stubborn, bad-tempered, or difficult, there is usually another explanation.
“That must come from the other side.”
As the grandchildren grow, the same cycle begins again. They adore their grandparents, then become teenagers and discover that grandparents can also be embarrassing, although they remain useful for money, lifts, and keeping secrets from parents.
Meanwhile, the original children start to understand why their own parents worried so much. They now have mortgages, jobs, and teenagers of their own.
One day, they may even admit that their parents were right about something.
Not everything, of course.
That would be asking too much.
But one thing is enough.
The parents can smile quietly and watch the whole cycle begin again.
