A case in point occurred on Saturday when the boy had unthinkingly transgressed one of Mrs P's golden rules during the day. After dinner, while the kids tucked into a pudding which has probably terrorised Tam Fry in his nightmares, I forensically described an apocalyptic view of his life chances if he continued to treat others without respect.
I laid it on thick, too. He's a good kid generally but - to be frank - he 'lost it' for a while and was pretty rude. To peals of laughter from the 'girls' (and from him, to be fair), I went into a polemic about how he would end up unemployable and stuck in some cockroach infested slum if he didn't get his manners embedded.
Even though I say so myself, it was a work of art. Off the top of my head, I threw in references to rude people we knew, pointed out that even if they were employed, their jobs were dreary, involved exceptionally hard work (something I know kids to find abhorrent), and made the highly unscientific link between that and a future whereby living on a park bench would be a distinct possibility if he didn't buck his ideas up. All laced with a liberal sprinkling of over-the-top humour, a couple of caricatured voice impressions, and the odd funny walk around the table.
Anyway, he got the point but was perhaps sceptical about how manners were really that important. Well, I hope so, anyway, as I'd hate to think he would just believe me without looking for proof himself.
Fortunately in that regard, a life lesson materialised the very next day which could almost have been staged by me, it was so perfect. Equally unscientific, but not in the eyes of a 10 year old.
After finishing the last bits of Christmas shopping, we had treated ourselves to a KFC lunch {waves to Jamie bastard Oliver} before heading home. Despite empty tables around us being littered with finished meals which people couldn't be arsed to throw into the bins, we did exactly that and exited. Just by chance - or because he's the smallest, I dunno - the boy was last out and held the door open for four twenty-something girls who were leaving at the same time, and who I initially thought were together.
The first two breezed past him without even acknowledging he was there, to his visible annoyance. The third and fourth smiled, said thank you, and held the door so he could leave having done his duty.
The ignorants then turned right on exiting and wandered off towards the crappy end of town, effing and blinding as they went, before stopping for a conversation with two slack-jawed berks with their trousers halfway down their underpants.
By contrast, the other two turned left, stopped briefly to look in the First Choice shop next door, audibly talking about where they had booked for their respective summer holidays and - as was exhibited by the sleeve logos we hadn't noticed previously - headed back to gainful employment at the town's higher class department store after their lunch break.
I looked at him, he looked at me. I said "Y'see?". He nodded in silent understanding.
Parenting is easy when life throws you a biscuit like that.
