James James Morrison Morrison - on children parenting feckless adults

It’s official.  My son is now the responsible adult in our relationship.  J

It’s been coming for a while, quite a long while really. In fact, way back when he was a child, that A.A.Milne poem always had a resonance...You know the one...

"James James
Morrison Morrison
Weatherby George Dupree
Took great
Care of his Mother,
Though he was only three..."

‘You’re just not aware, Mother,’ he said, with a furrow of the brow, when we somewhere or other.  I laughed. I love it when he calls me ‘Mother’ in that fake disapproving way. 

‘You haven’t got a clue, have you?’ he went on.

‘Nope. Absolutely none whatsoever,’ I said with a grin.  ‘Though,’ I added.  ‘Be fair.  If I need to step up to the mark, I will.’

‘Fair play,’ he said.

But then, the other night, Kate and I set off for our walk in the woods.  It’s supposed to be a power walk; we’re supposed to march and sweat as a warm-up for our kettlebell session in the garden.  But, as we walked towards the steps, we looked at one another and Kate said, ‘Let’s leave the walking poles, huh?  I haven’t seen you for ages.  Let’s just walk.’

So we just walked.  Well, okay, I hauled her up the Chimney, so it was more of a climb.  And we broke out onto the hillfort and I introduced her to my tree and she told me about her tree (as you do) and we meandered along through the woods, past the camp and onto the Middle Path and then, when we came down to the river, Kate looked at me and I looked back at Kate and she said.  ‘This is just too nice.  Sod kettlebells.  Why don’t we just carry on walking?’ 

So we cut down to Marsh Bridge, over the bridge with the Maltese crosses, and climbed up and up towards the Trig Point.  And dusk started falling, and the pheasants got themselves all in a panic, stupid birds.  And an owl hooted.  And the hedgerows rustled.  And the moon rose up.  Just a sliver, a meagre slice.

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I love walking at night.  The darkness is soft and soothing.  There’s not so much to see but plenty to hear and scent and feel.  So, by the time we got back to the house, I was feeling pretty good. 

Until we met James, standing at the door, hands on hips.

‘Where have you been?’ 

‘Er…in the woods.’

‘It’s dark!  You’ve been gone for hours. Dad has gone out to find you.’

‘What?’

‘Why didn’t you take your phone?  You could have been lying with a broken leg in a ditch.’

‘But, but…I was with Kate.  I wasn’t going to be eaten by wild dogs.’ 

But he wasn’t having it, not at all.  Kate and I looked at one another; we shuffled from foot to foot.  We giggled a bit like naughty schoolgirls and James stomped off in disgust as I lit up the candles and incense. 

But, as we sat and sipped our herbal tea, I thought about it.  Of course I had been perfectly safe but he had been worried.  And that wasn't fair or right.  I went into the breakfast room, where he was doing his homework.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.  ‘It was thoughtless.  I should have taken my phone and I should have called.’

He nodded. ‘It’s what you always say to me.’

‘This is true.’

And we had a hug and he looked mollified and went back to his work.  Though I swear I heard him muttering under his breath.  ‘Mothers.’