PDA

Life never runs smoothly and this, we must all accept with humility and some determination to overcome and ‘carry on’…as the quote goes. In recent weeks I have to admit I have been away traveling leaving most of ones responsibilities  to ‘Ms Jean Brodie’, which is always a terrifying thought.  Will the house still be standing, has she set fire to the kitchen, what will she have broken this time? to my relief all was apparently well upon my return.

However…there always is a ‘however’, having accepted an invitation to my daughter’s friend’s house for supper, my tongue would appear to have got the better of me after a couple of bottle of wine. I think after an hour or so of going through the usual ritual of one-upmanship fending off a series of verbal counter attacks in that condescending manner, I suddenly heard myself announce that ‘Ms Brodie’ suffered from PDA (personal demand avoidance)!

The table fell silent for a moment whilst everyone tried to gather their thoughts and ascertain exactly what that meant.  Mercifully, no one had ever heard of it, not even ‘Ms Brodie’…I’m pretty certain as I write this she will have looked it up by now! The situation was only saved by the children causing something of a disturbance and thus distracting everyone’s attention elsewhere. What was I thinking? This is a classic case where that constant drip, drip sniping, criticism and putdowns finally accumulates to such a degree that it spills over and erupts forcing an explosion of emotions, in this case; blurting out that she suffered from PDA…I suppose it could have been worse.

My other dilemma, which I have just discovered, is that my daughter has a piano concert – organized by her tutor where each of her pupils plays one piece, which lasts no more than a couple of minutes  and is scheduled for the day after my partner’s 50th birthday. I was planning to take her away for a few days to celebrate but now I have this piano concert. What to do? I have never missed one and even though we – the collective parents – always jokingly bemoan the hour or so of forced listening to scores of other people’s children of various ages and varying degrees of accomplishment go through their paces just in order to hear our own child recite 2 or 3 minutes worth is something of an annual ritual…

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