It’s National Children’s Day in Thailand. I know this because the Google home page told me so this morning, and it even flashed up the slogan for the day: “Uphold discipline, enhance knowledge and bring Thailand towards Asean”. A bit of a tall order for a five year old.
“Daddy, how can I do my bit to bring Thailand towards Asean?”. “Shut up and have a balloon”.
Not included in the slogan is “spend the entire day being spoiled and behaving like an obnoxious little prat”; which is what actually happens. It’s best not to stray from home on this day, because all public places are rammed with parents desperately trying to find something to do with their expectant offspring. I received a text from she who must be obeyed, who has the misfortune to be working today, which read “stay away from town, it’s full of little shits”. And so it will be. Thousands of kids ignoring any minimal discipline their weary parents might be trying to uphold, enhancing their knowledge of eating sweets and whining for toys they don’t need, and bringing themselves closer to Asean on the way home by vomiting over the back seat of the car.
It’s not that we need a children’s day here. Children in Thailand are already spoiled rotten, especially the male of the species who is treated like a little prince until he is old enough to discover his genitals, alcohol and weaponry; at which point he turns into a feckless, lazy, spoiled, adult brat; impregnating without responsibility and generally behaving like an arsehole while his parents wonder what went wrong. “We gave him everything he ever wanted”. Precisely.
I may be giving the impression that I don’t like children and that’s just not true. I hate the little buggers. Of course there are exceptions. We all love our own children, it’s biology. But I must admit I found The Son to be something of a disappointment initially. As any good father should, I had installed a massive Scalextric track in anticipation of his conception. Sadly, once he arrived he seemed to be only interested in sleeping, eating, shitting, making impressively noxious smells for one so small, and crying a lot; especially when his father became angry because he refused to grasp the functions of a Scalextric controller. By the time he was old enough to appreciate my magnificent gift, I had broken it. Still, once he started talking and attending to his own toilet, he became a delight and continues to be so.
There are children I can tolerate for limited periods. Here’s one I snapped yesterday:
As kids go, you could do no better. An impish face, of a type normally seen presenting Mummy with an impossibly stained shirt in a washing powder advertisement, and a lively enquiring mind.
“What’s that?” he asked after I had taken his photo, pointing at my camera.
The obvious reply was to tell him that it was a Micro Four Thirds Panasonic GX1 with a Panasonic Leica Summilux 25mm F1.4 lens attached; but I have found that this level of verbosity has made even the most hardened adult yawn; so I settled for a more condensed: “It’s a camera”.
“What does it do?” “It takes photos.” I showed him his photo. “Why don’t you try taking photos without a camera?”
A good question and I immediately launched into a brief philosophical summary as to what one might consider to be a camera, before diving into a detailed history of the camera obscura, with particular reference to the work of Giovanni Battista Della Porta in 1558. Riveting stuff; but my audience seemed more concerned as to extracting the contents of his tube of M&Ms and wandered off to find a less lunatic adult to talk to.
It’s rejections like this that have led me to a rigorous strategy when confronted with a child. If they look at me, usually with their sweet cherubic faces wreathed in a welcoming smile, I glare at them; and I continue penetrating their happiness with my stare of doom until they cry or turn away in fear, preferably both. Either way, there is no way they are going to want to approach me after that. The crying outcome usually has the parents turning in my direction to see why their beloved is whimpering, at which point I switch on my “isn’t he sweet, aren’t they adorable at this age” look, with just a flicker of “please remove your mewling brat from my vicinity” to hint at the fact I’d rather they were somewhere else. It’s quite hard to achieve this mixture of messages in a single glance, so feel free to practice in front of a mirror first if you wish to employ my strategy.
Happy children’s day. Just keep them away from me.
Comments 🔗
2013-01-12| Pete saysTook my step-brood to Bang Saray beach for lunch. They were thrilled with that and a good play in the sea, didn’t want to get out again. Glad I didn’t go down town, as the beach was chock-full enough.
Hope the wind wasn’t too strong when you met your M&M wielding camera enthusiast ………..
2013-01-12| Kevin Moore saysLove the post Spike think I share exactly the same view but couldn’t have have written it so well. Sad really when we have this view but it’s all down to today’s modern pc parent. From a very early age my parents certainly weren’t shy to issue a quick stinging slap to the back of my leg as a short sharp message to adjust my behaviour. Working back here in the UK shooting weddings to earn enough to pay for my regular doses of sunshine, I often come across badly behaved rude spoilt brats. All down to a total lack of parental control and a proper upbringing teaching a little respect for other people. What really grips me is the response from most of these parents who all reply with the same " he/she is just having an issue". Issues? I know the cure for issues, my parents stopped “issues” being invented but sadly now this cure is illegal in many countries. Innovation and invention have made the age I live in a truly great time to spend my one go on this planet but I’d love to meet the muppet who invented “issues” and pehaps have an “issue” all of my own.
2013-01-12| Spike says“A quick stinging slap to the back of my leg”? Luxury.
When I was young, our Dad used t’ break all our t’ bones with sledge ‘ammer, then set fire to our t’ clothing while we was still wearing it.
2013-01-12| Grant saysThen it were back ‘ome to cardboard box in t’ middle o’ road, ‘alf a piece o’ coal fer supper, an’ then ’e thrashed us t’ death before bedtime. Ooh they was luv’ly days…
2013-01-13| Spike saysFor those who have no idea what we are on about: http://youtu.be/Xe1a1wHxTyo
2013-01-13| Grant saysAnd you try and tell the young people of today that and they won’t believe you. ‘E lad that were luv’ly, bah goom what memories…
2013-01-13| Chang Noi saysI am sure you all have been (or will be) lovely children carrying fathers ….
2013-01-13| Grant says…and the pigs are prepped, primed and ready to fly…
2013-01-17| John Griggs saysCoal? You had coal? Life o’ luxury if yuhs ast me… but you didn’t.
2013-01-31| Jock saysThat needs to be translated into Swiss German PDQ … half of the kids need psychiatry and the other half are cutting themselves … must be all that fresh air (concerts) and glorious countryside !!
2013-02-04| ChristianPFC saysOn national children’s day, several places/buildings/institutes are open to the public. Unfortunately, I missed this opportunity to visit some of them this year, but hope I will remember next year.