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Sunday 25 April 2010

A call for bad behaviour

When he was a boy, Mr Coffee stole a packet of segs from a shop. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the walk home was a killer - every step filled with terror and regret. By eleven years old, he knew he was not a recidivist.

I must have been about the same age when I went to our corner shop with a girl from school, who began to demonstrate her own much more practiced method of shoplifting. I was beyond shocked, and though we didn't use the phrase 'comfort zone' then, I knew enough to know that I was out of mine. As a child, I was terrified and regretful even when I hadn't even done anything. The most exciting thing I remember doing was walking to the other side of my village with my friend Joanne. It was so far away! (Over half a mile!) We came back, giggling uncontrollably and amazed at how far we could reach in the world.

Yesterday I took the Lattes to an activity day for disabled children and their families. I don't usually go to these things, but as my family grows up, I'm getting less able to pretend that our life is completely normal except for the addition of a few pieces of equipment. The sun is out, and everyone is heading to the park and to the beach - but the other nine-year-olds are getting independent, nipping to the shops and hanging out with each other. Their mothers aren't lifting them onto the swings or taking them to the toilet.

At this activity day I was chatting to a service provider of activities for children with additional needs. The ultimate aim, he said, would be equality to the point where disabled children got to hang around on street corners. And I said yes. Yes. YES. I want my child to be able to hang around on street corners.

Eldest has access to a range of meticulously planned activities with helpful and caring adult support. Though I'm very grateful for the opportunities offered - filling the after-school hours without resorting to TV and shouting is a challenge for any parent, special needs child or no - there is something overly wholesome about the thought of it. I don't worry that she won't get chance to go horse-riding, or play sports, or learn to play an instrument (that opportunity includes abandoning the instrument that you're learning to play - another important rite of passage for most of us). I worry that she won't hang about, having fun with friends, doing nothing, with every chance to get up to no good.

It might seem strange, to parents who worry about these things, to hear someone calling 'bring it on' to boundary-pushing behaviour. But freedom is where we find out who we are - what our limits are, when we've pushed them a bit too far for comfort. It's where we learn what it's right to be afraid of, and what's not worth worrying about.

And where we realise, if we're lucky, that we're not cut out to be a thief.

16 comments:

  1. You may not be cut out to be a thief - but, with stories like that, you'll steal a few hearts.

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  2. I was going to go all soft--and then I read Mr. Omnibusologist's comment and realized he'd already done it for me. Whew. That was a close call.

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  3. She'll find her way to 'hang out'. It might not be terribly conventional but the instinct will be there and it'll happen.

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  4. Loving this. You are a great storyteller :)

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  5. What an awesome post! So very true, as well.

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  6. Coffee lady, you just made me cry.

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  7. I am always wishing that Jimmy didn't hang around street corners or associate with (who I see as) undesirables! But this has made me think differently, remember my own youthful freedom (and I was much naughtier!) and like ThirdCat I have a tear in my eye. Wise words. Thankyou. x

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  8. You have made me value even more this afternoon where the boys were able to whizz up and down the road in their home made billy cart.

    Yes I made them wear a helmet each but I was actually contemplating the very thing of which you write - that they must be able to push the boundaries, knowing that we have them securely ringfenced if need be.

    And so I will continue to let them push boundaries, knowing that for some parents, some children, simply racing a billy cart would fill their world with more joy than my own kids could ever know.

    x

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  9. You really make me think. It's a good thing.

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  10. however she grows up she will be the better person because you care xxx

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  11. I suspect, that as the daughter of Mr and Mrs Coffee Lady, she will find her own inventive ways to hang out and be bad. Don't underestimate her.

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  12. I totally get this. Olive has indeed shoplifted, but it doesn't count as a rite of passage when you don't understand that you're stealing.

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  13. you know... with a mother like you she will. I find it inspiring that you think like that, I really mean it, she's a lucky girl.

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  14. I am taking all this in and thinking about it - a lot. btw segs - we just called them Blakey's I had no idea they had a proper name.

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  15. Actually .. you're the only other person I know who calls them Segs! Mr M looks at me in a strange way when I call them that..

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  16. You're fab. I just thought you should know that.

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