I believe I have a quaranteen. She is only three years (going on 40). The other day I told her to pick up her toys in the passage. She replied “…but you want to sleep the whole day”. Technically, she wasn’t wrong. I slept until midday that day. But it still felt wrong.
She’s been spending plenty of time in the naughty corner of late. But not for minor infractions like not eating her food. Nowadays its because she placed herself there. Rather than hear me rant and rave about the error of her ways, she’ll quickly turn on her heel and march off to the naughty corner.
My mom was 36 when she had her little laat lametjie. Like me, the year she turned 40, her baby turned 4. Coincidence or just mathematical equations? I find it rather remarkable, to say the least. At that stage in her motherhood journey, my mom had already started raising teenagers.
I was thirteen, our elder sister was 16. I don’t know what they must have called them spicy four year old’s back then, but nowadays we call them quaranteen. The other day I told her as long as she lives under my roof, she will follow my rules. She had wanted to know why I pulled out the bath plug.
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