216. When I grow up ...

This comes as a surprise thus making us feel like bad parents again. To be honest it is true that these days we seem to be a little more centred on our TGA and not on the future of our children. We've been saying a lot of things that could be interpreted as not caring, things like:

'Well, it's your life.'

'Just do whatever makes you happy.'

'We'll support you whatever you decide.'

Etc. All the while hoping they are not going to go for the most expensive course on the list. Now we feel perhaps we should have sat them down and asked in a low slow voice some highly meaningful questions like some new age hypnotherapists ... 

'Close your eyes now please. Ommmmmmmm ... Tell us. Ommmmmmm ... Where do you see yourself in 5 years?  ... Ommmmmmm ... Where will you be sitting ... Ommmmmmmmmmmm ...'

Maybe not. Anyway they just shrug their shoulders and raise their eyes to the ceiling. They are probably thinking that we've lost the plot some while ago. Or maybe they just think about their next pizza and whether they will stick to the same toppings or risk being adventurous this time.

Party-Head had given us clear instructions anyway. She had invited a friend around and they had disappeared on the top floor for hours.

'Do not disturb us, please. We are making important choices about our future.'

All right. Point taken. And then the bad parents that we are forgot about the whole thing. Until today.

'Geology?'

'Geology.'

This - unsurprisingly - comes as a surprise.

'But you never liked geology at school!' I say hoping that my memory is not failing me and that she was not the one carting bags of stones to school ... 

'Exactly!' Pipes in her sister. 'It was me that used to get told off by mum and dad for filling up the boot of the car with big huge rocks!'

Now I need to step in quickly before this turns into an argument between the siblings about who was into rocks and who collected the most. And I do not want them to go into the outbuilding to look for them and discover that mum has released them back into the wild. They might be teenagers but when they are together they seem to act like the small kids they were years ago. 

'I remember you and maps in the car, that's something you could do too.' My husbands says which triggers memories of holidays.

'Oh yes! That's right. And do you remember walking down to the brook and finding some bright red clay? You would stay there for hours making little pots ...' 

I do remember the four of them disappearing with their bags full of instruments off to play cavemen. They would come back wet through from being too adventurous to reach the best clay, muddy from treading back - soaked - all the way up the hill through the woods, clothes torn and sometimes a hat or even a shoe missing.

'Can you see me standing in the mud with a helmet on and welly boots on?'

We shake our heads in agreement. We can definitely see that. And as she asks I am thinking I should have tried the hypnotherapy trick. I make a note to try it with the others.

The following day Party-Head is off with a few friends to make use of our ramshackle and long forgotten holiday house in the country. I take the time to google the school she will be attending and when I see a bunch of muddy teenagers at the top of a mountain taking stupid poses with bits of rocks in their hands I show my husband.

'That's it! Definitely the school for her! She'll fit in!'

We laugh. We are happy and we are proud too. We are looking forward to seeing pictures of her at work with her wellies on. The child is coming through the teenager, the young adult peeking through already.

Later on in the evening my phone beeps.

'Having a great time. My friends love Custrac. Went down to the brook. All the clay is gone! Washed away I guess?'

Good topic for a budding geologist I think. Where did the clay from her childhood go?