I'VE just dropped a bombshell. Our friend Margaret, who is 94 and has the best stories of the Zeppelin attacking Leith, growing up with seven siblings in a room and kitchen and seeing Anna Pavlova dance her Dying Swan at the Edinburgh Empire, often arrives with a giant bar of chocolate for the children, but they weren't with us when we went shopping so I suggested she take it home for safekeeping.
"You what!? Jeez," says Middle Child, who is ransacking the cupboards in search of something tooth-rotting.
"Margaret wanted us to have that. She knows the value of chocolate. She's kinder than you."
He slumps into a seat, head in hands, a
nd says: "I don't know why we have discussions about life decisions at school because it's adults who need them. We get, 'Should you or should you not play on train tracks?' Hmm, that's a tricky one. Or, 'Should you or should you not grab a high voltage electric cable?' Let me think about that..."
Warming to his theme: "We actually have no problem with sensible decisions. But adults, over REAL, IMPORTANT questions, haven't got a clue. Like, you're shopping with Margaret and she buys us chocolate. Do you take it or leave it with her until next weekend? Duh! You take it then, obviously. It's adults who need to have discussions about making life decisions, not us!"
Maybe he's right. Perhaps I'm wrong to say children don't have the sense they were born with. I resolve to be more trusting.
Later the doorbell goes. That'll be Margaret and a big bar of chocolate. No, it's a neighbour – did I know about the small fire on my roof? I race upstairs to confront the boys with one of those life decision dilemmas they're so good at. "Should we spray-paint a school dictionary and set parts of it on fire on the roof outside our bedroom window? Or not?"
"We DID think," says one, indignant, "whether to go for A to C, or X, Y and Z."
Cue Margaret, with another dilemma. Should we let the pyromaniacs have any chocolate, or keep it all for ourselves?
