Before I return to Berlin and the last leg of my overseas month I want to share a story of ‘when my children were young’. My daughter says she enjoys the old stories of my childhood, well, this is one from hers.
I know that it is Fathers’ Day, not Mothers’ Day but I was prompted to remember this day when I was talking to my husband about what to expect from his granddaughter tomorrow. Things do not change, there has been a Fathers’ Day stall at school. This is his granddaughter’s first year at school and she is beyond excited about the present.
But back to the 80s. I guess AK was in Kindergarten, 5 years old. The school asked for donations for the MD stall. Most parents sent soap and the like so the kids could purchase something for their mothers. AK loved anything sparkly. She used to press her nose to the shop windows transfixed at the most dreadful over the top clothing, usually in mother of the bride type shops. Tutus weren’t worn as much as they are these days but that was her style. The more bling the better.
On Mothers’ Day, AK was very excited to give me her present. I opened the handmade paper and card to find a necklace of dirty plastic pearls. I deserve an Academy Award for the performance I put on. I duly wore the pearls all day to my own mother’s celebration who was as good an actor as me. AK loved them.
My question was, who was the shitty parent who donated them and why didn’t the P&C bin them before they hit the stall? I will never know but I certainly remember the day. Maybe that’s what it’s about, the crappy ones are the ones you remember. I don’t remember the tasteful and appropriate subsequent Mothers’ Day gifts as well as that one.
I hope all the Dads and Granddads have their Oscar winning faces ready for tomorrow.