I have just had one of those Mother Moments.
Felix had a party tonight. His friend was throwing a desirable laser-gun affair at the local soft play centre. Ten lucky chaps were invited to join the birthday boy in a re-enactment of something a little like the gunfight at the OK Corral.
A present was bought and wrapped, and pristine clothes were ironed: Felix was lectured on the importance of blowing his nose regularly, making eye contact and being courteous. And then we teetered out into the snow, hopped into the bus and made our way gingerly into the ink-black night.
When we arrived his friends were already cannonballing around the three padded floors as boys are wont to do. Hectic contentment reigned.
We returned later . We did not burst in, or announce our arrival. I did, however, get a clear view of my son where he sat. And oh, what a sight met my eyes.
Felix is well versed in eating with courteous reference to others: sitting correctly, never talking with one’s mouth full, attending to others, taking turns to converse about things which are important to others as well as oneself.
Today, he was on his knees on his seat. He was holding court, and not in a good way. He was not rude: but he was off-hand, using that devil-may-care body language which seems so desirable amongst English boys of his age right now. When he addressed a member of staff it was not with an ‘Excuse Me”, or a “please”, but an imperious directness.
Of course, giving little boys guns to charge around and then expecting courtesy may be bucking the testosterone trend.
But each of these small boorish actions had consequences; they made someone else feel smaller, accorded less respect to another. It is true that most others were doing the same: but I went hot and cold as I watched this common understanding, shared by a group of eight year old boys, of How Things Should Be.
My mind bade proportion goodbye, as it is wont to do, and headed for a desert island where another, fictional group of little boys was once marooned, with the most extreme consequences.
William Golding sure knew what he was talking about.
Golding, in his peerless, desolate wasteland of a novel Lord Of The Flies, writes of what happens when a plane crashes on an island in time of war. The children on board, evacuees, are forced to fend for themselves, and we are faced very quickly with the question: what will the natural order be?
Because the consequences on this island are very different from the ones which would face the British boys back home.
The boys face a stark set of realities. They must find food and shelter, rescue must be made possible, and some kind of social order found so, in the mean time, the boys can get along.
It goes so well for a while, with a conch shell a potent symbol of power and a logical, careful leader in Ralph. A fire is lit to alert passing ships.
But Golding has his little charges degenerate because, even when one kills someone on this bleak island, there are few consequences except a gradual descent into the animal.
As I stood there watching my son, I would be telling an untruth if I said this didn’t, for an instant, flit across my consciousness. But I administered myself a swift lecture, hauled my sense of proportion out of the chair where she had been slumped, and regrouped forces.
At which moment, entering stage left, a green character sped across my mind, hooting gently : “Poop, poop…”
Ah, Toad. I have always found him much the most entertaining of Kenneth Graham’s characters in Wind in the Willows. He is simply incorrigible. At a hypothetical party I would make very sure I was on his table, and I would probably follow him up the highways and byways of petty wrongdoing for further than most, because I love him.
But consequences? The toad doesn’t know the meaning of the word for the lions share of Graham’s wonderful stories.
He does affect a theatrical remorse for his wrongdoings every now and then. But in between, he manages to crash six cars, be hospitalised twice and build up a set of fines which would make Badger’s hair stand on end.
I have always loved the scene where Badger takes Toad to task for his motor-car obsession. He tells him off so roundly that Toad begins to sob, there in the smoking room, away from the ears of his other friends.
But they know that these tears are just so much theatre to this over-priviledged loveable charlatan. And when Badger brings him out to the others to swear, publicly, that he will never touch another motor car, he has one response.
“I’d have said anything in there. You’re so eloquent, dear Badger, and so moving, and so convincing, and put all your points so frightfully well–you can do what you like with me in there, and you know it. But I’ve been searching my mind since, and going over things in it, and I find that I’m not a bit sorry or repentant really, so it’s no earthly good saying I am; now, is it?’…..I faithfully promise that the very first motor-car I see, poop- poop! off I go in it!”
I blinked rapidly, mentally sifting feverishly through the end of the novel to see whether Toad ever faces the consequences of his actions.
And of course, he does. He makes proper recompense to those he has wronged. Not before he has dressed up as a washerwoman and found himself in thrall to some highly dodgy characters, and indeed lost his home: but he faces those consequences in the end.
I relaxed imperceptibly. I called my son to order, and directed him to say a textbook, courteous Happy Birthday to his friend, followed by a suitably heart-warming thank you to the mother who had made all this possible. In the car, on the way home, we had a few choice, well-chosen words.
He said: ” Mummy, I know, but it’s just so hard when everyone else is doing it.”
And I said I know Son, but that’s what you need: the strength to see what will happen because of what you do. The insight to see the consequences, and make them good ones.
Those marooned boys never really learnt that. Toad did, finally.
I have no doubt Felix will steal a glorious march on them both.
Kate Shrewsday 
Of course he will!
*Shamefacedly admits to not have read Lord of the flies*
Happy Saturday Kate!
Don’t bother, its blurry grim. Gave me a start yesterday, I can tell you.
You too, Cindy. It’s thawing out here…bet the sun is warming everything through nicely there…
I agree with Kate. Lord of the Flies was the WORST book I ever had to read for school. Nasty stuff.
Poirot it is then 🙂
Dame Agatha . . . aah!
A highly evocative story that has left me rather nonplussed. But that’s a good thing! When I read (and write) first-person stories such as this, I always become the “I.” I cannot read them objectively – no matter who or what the narrator is, so, needless to say, I was you in this wonderful story. Did you feel the transition/sensation when I popped out of you at the end? 😀 As I extricated myself from your psyche, I wondered, now that we are separate, would I have responded as coolly and level-headedly as you did? Such behavior in our children is at times frightening to behold, and at the same time so normal. Striking a balance in our reactions to it is so important. Well done, girl!
My husband and I discussed this once. When children are away from their parents’ presence, they sometimes (many times) “try on” different behaviors they know they would not get away with when at home. It is a “safe” way for them to test behavior boundaries without having to pay the consequences. We used to pray that our boys would be able to make the right choices. For the most part they have! You actually were quite fortunate to be able to get this glimpse into that particular world. I for some reason or other remember something my mother taught me once. She said, “Every once in a while, when you see your child in the act of doing something wrong, you should ‘let them get away with it,’ because if you have raised them well, they will never ever forget it It certainly worked for me! I’ve never gotten over nor forgotten those things I thought I had gotten away with, and our boys have told me the same. Doing wrong is sometimes as good a teacher as doing right. Consciousnesses are great things, and sometimes feel like curses!
Bravo to you. You did things just right here, I think!
I may never know if I got it right, Paula…that’s parenthood:-) There’s apparently a wonderful book called Raising Boys, which I am overdue a read. Must look it out and make a start. I have a feeling what I don’t know about this subject is a lot.
Of course we will never know, but you might pick good fruit from this incident that you cannot taste for YEARS! Also, I would read books on raising children (boys or girls, but I only have experience with boys) with a healthy dash of salt. No one knows the heart of your child better than you, and I found early on that some advice led me to believe (for a while, anyway) that I had already ruined my sons, and they were only 18 months old!) Learning to relax is a big help! Sometimes our own instincts are better- especially when we yield our concerns over to God. So hard for me to leave my concerns in God’s hands, though. I tend to give them up on my knees and then yank them back as soon as I stand up! 😦
All I’m saying is don’t give up on your own better, and hopefully guided instincts. And, as I learned from my Mom many things, I mostly had experience as my best teacher, and you will too! And so someday will your son(s). I still say GOOD JOB!
Cheers Paula 🙂
Well done, Kate, well done. Paula, above, expresses it so well, much better than I. It is okay when children are allowed to make mistakes, especially in such an environment. They do learn from them.
The Lord of the Flies was required reading in high school many full moons ago. I read it again as an adult and took even more out it then. Felix will do well, I have no doubt.
Penny, thanks 🙂 I have faith in Felix – he’s got a lot of integrity. It’s knowing when to use the light touch and when to go in with the big guns….wisdom is so hard to come by….
I too have not read Lord of the Flies… don’t think I’ll seek it out any time soon – although who knows? I have recently found myself reading books I’d always thought to avoid. 🙂 Poor Felix – but I have no doubt he’ll steal the march, as you say.
Lord of the Flies is such a wise book, Ruth, in so many ways: its really a study of humans and politics and how much, or how little, civilisation is just a veneer. It is not for nothing that Golding got his Nobel Prize: but I’ll be reading an Agatha Christie tonight….
The outset of this story made me laugh out loud:
“Ten lucky chaps were invited to join the birthday boy in a re-enactment of something a little like the gunfight at the OK Corral.
A present was bought and wrapped, and pristine clothes were ironed . . .”
The irony of ironing clothes for a gunfight. 🙂
It does have a certain ring to it. i wonder if they ironed their chaps in the old days….
Ahhh! The natural order of things and the cleverness or discernment to know the difference. I’ve just finished Nussbaum’s book and I’m sure it’s miles from what you intended for this post but it speaks to the ability to synthesize feelings and the opportunity for empathy. Both of those are fundamental to a free world so hang tough mum!
No, not miles away at all, just the sort of leap of logic I love, thank you 🙂 I think I had better shuffle the reading list I have, so theres a space at the top.
Why did we have Lord of the Flies as required reading in school and not Lord of the Rings (the abridged version, shorter)? I also did not like the Flies at all. I would rather have read about what consequences strong character brings than the degeneration of character.
Anyway, always good to read your posts and have a moment to ponder. Thanks!
Ah, you are a positive soul, Zoe 😀 It is horrid.
I wonder if this book were a person, though, and were helping a team achieve something: would he be the one who always sees the flaw in a plan, thus enabling a team to produce something perfect? It’s possible this kind of voice has a place, if only to warn us where not to go…
Thank goodness it wasn’t Lord of the Rings! What a boring book!!! (IMHO)
It is very, very, very long
Re: Lord of the Flies: as with many good books it is foisted upon a readership which, by and large are too young to see the subtleties there-in. I gained a great deal more on a second reading only a few years ago.
Re: Toad of Toad Hall. I never like Toad. Bumptious!
Re: Raising boys… If I remember correctly I did not find a great deal in it and it was rather Americanised to be totally relevant here in sunny Oxfordshire. … but maybe my memory is failing me? And also my boys are not ‘typical’ if any child is,’typical’
Lovely post, Kate.
With the benefit of hindsight I wish I had been less ‘sergeant major-ish’ with my boys when they were younger, but on the whole they are decent chaps, who still need guidance in the right direction at times. As they get older people comment on their politeness, which we less frequently see at home. (They are just 17 and 14) Parenting is difficult, but I think you have a pretty good balance.
Pseu, it’s lovely to hear from someone further down the road on the raising kids front…wisdom is so hard to find. I guess it’s just a case of continuing to tread the tightrope 🙂
As I am the only female influence in the immediate family I feel it is important that they get a balanced view of life. You have one of each, at least, and I think this will help.
You are right, Pseu 🙂 Thank heaven for little girls.
(You will have to imagine the French accent)