Home sweet home


The opportunity arrived for my 12 year old son to go ‘home’. ‘Home’ is that place where I was born and brought up, and he hadn’t been home since he was a baby.  Well let’s face it it’s not really his home but hey!

I jumped at it; all I had to do was buy the ticket and get him to the airport on time, easy! My cousin would sort the rest. So we did! I was sooo excited for him.  I clearly felt it would be good for him, he’d have a good time and he would love it.  He was not so sure, and considering he didn’t know till four hours before he was due at the airport, I guess it is understandable.

On the way to the airport I figured I would remind him of some things; every adult is either an uncle or an aunty and you must address them as such. We don’t say hello, we say good morning/afternoon/evening, and you must always end with aunty or uncle, if your cousin prostrates to greet someone don’t hesitate,  copy him quickly; always use your right hand, don’t forget to be polite….. blah blah blah….I reeled through a list of things that would give the appearance that I had brought him up ‘properly’ or rather to the ‘expected standards’ and I laughed at myself. Who was I kidding? The boy is not rude, no, but is he really going to remember to do all these non habitual things?! I doubt it!  Here I was trying to instill an entire culture in him on a forty minute drive to the airport, yeah right!

Anyway, he was there for ten days….So, on day one I got an email from a very unhappy bloke sarcastically thanking me for forcing him to go and he very kindly attached a picture of a lizard! Then on day seven I got a phone call asking if he could return for the next holiday.


Yes! Mission accomplished!

100% person. 100% human. Thankfully able to adjust.


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