Robert the Rose Horse was my favourite, favourite, favourite childhood book in the world. I read it thousands of times and most nights I even slept with Robert (ha!). I’m pretty sure that aside from Joan Heilbroner’s rhythmic words, it was the idea of people being blown off their feet that completely had me – to this day unexpected slapstick comedy gets me every time. Whatever it was, Robert the Rose Horse and I were the best of friends.
When the Badoo was about four I thought it was time that Robert was reintroduced into my life. I gleefully bought a copy, wrapped it neatly and placed it on the coffee table to await her return from preschool. It was to be a ‘just because’ present, something I rarely did, which I thought added to the importance of the whole Robert thing. As I waited for the day to hurry up already, the excitement was unbearable. I honestly felt like that book-shaped gift on the coffee table was quivering in anticipation too.
It needn’t have bothered. Following much squealing at the opening of a just-because present, Badoo gave me one of those looks that kids specialise in when they’re presented with underpants instead of a pony. The underpant look. It’s the same slightly-brave, slightly-dazed, slightly-pissed off look that the Mona Lisa sports. It’s a little known fact that she was gifted a packet of underpants right before da Vinci painted her. It’s all the mehs in the world landing on one face.
So while the Badoo did her best Mona to hide her incredible disappointment at finding a book about an allergic horse in her surprise gift, I bravely Mona’d on through my own incredible disappointment. To think that Robert, that happy little horse, would not be sleeping with a new generation of children was almost unbearable. I insisted on reading the book to her five times that afternoon. I tried all my best impersonations. I tried making my sneezes huge enough to blow the roof off. I tried guffawing extra-loudly when the uppity woman really did go up. I tried everything. The Badoo was having none of it.
The mystery of parenting was never deeper than it was to me on that day. I just didn’t get it. How could my own child not adore the things that I adored when I was little? How could my happy place be her big, fat Mona-meh? How could Robert – ROBERT! – be such a failure? I felt so utterly disappointed in my child I could barely keep the Mona Lisa smile hanging.
It dawned on me much later, of course. I was mid-way through reading Robert to myself before bed (as you do) and I was chuckling along and it hit me: My kid isn’t me.
Parenting wasn’t such a mystery after that.
Have you ever been disappointed by your kids?
Alisa says
I can’t believe that somehow in my childhood I managed to miss the delights of Robert completely. It looks excellent! Have to say though, I love slapstick too. Must be because I grew up with cartoons of Daffy Duck getting his beak blown off (haha). Apparently I’m not Badoo either. 😀 xx Alisa
Maxabella says
Road Runner was always my favourite (but not the runner, the coyote). It’s so funny though because I remember mentioning to Bart how slapstick reduces me to laughy-tears and he showed me a video of the Marx brothers and I had the Mona meh face on for sure!! Um, my kinda slapstick cannot be contrived… 🙂
Vicki @ Knocked Up and Abtoad says
I often go out of my way to set up an activity that I think will be outrageously wonderful, engaging and definitely win me browny points in the parenting ranks only for the Vicklets to have a go at it for precisely 2.5 minutes before they run off and give it not another thought. Then the mystery of parenting is before me but yes, it’s important to keep in mind the whole they’re not me thing. It’s not always easy to figure out precisely what rocks they’re both though is it?
Maxabella says
Being a proactive mum can be sooooo disappointing. There’s an art to caring, but not caring too much. I have never quite understood what rocks the kids’ boats. Something, nothing, anything. I am leaving it up to them to figure that one out. x
Emily says
Trade Robert for One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, and I’ve lived this exact experience. x
Maxabella says
ANOTHER excellent book meh’d. Is there no end!?!?!?!
Shari from GoodFoodWeek says
My whole family enjoyed a story called ‘Bria’s birthday’ {about a girl who got to do whatever she wanted on her birthday, including wearing clothes from the dress up box and making her mother wear her wedding dress}. When the pair went to places like the butcher to pick up mini frankfurts for the birthday party, all the people stopped and stared. But my Mum would add ‘and said crickey joe, what have you got on?’. We would be rolling on the floor laughing at this. My boys did not think this was funny – C R U S H E D. Maybe they are too young and I will bring the book out again in years to come 🙂
Maxabella says
I think it was extremely funny. Go the mum ad lib! Mums make books even better… 🙂
Helen K says
I have one child who (almost always) loves any book I bring out – bless him! And a second who looks and then might say ‘I’m just not that into that, Mum’ (usually with a hug, or a pat on the arm, which I try to take as consoling and not patronising). But then I look at what she loves, and while I find it fascinating, I just never was a girl who perpetually cartwheeled, had extensive conversations between my toys, or ‘needed to dance in order to get my frustrations out’. As you say – we’re all different 🙂
Fevvers Carter says
This was my ENTIRE experience of parenting my first chil – the early years anyway. A creeping sense of disapointment. I thought I was going to be so accepting and loving but NO. Didnt realise that unconsciously I had a whole truckload of expectations and my daughter basically fit none of them. I’m a bookworm. Freya was lukewarm at best. (She also rejected Robert the Rose Horse which was one of my childhood faves too). I talk ALL THE TIME. I bubble over with ideas and thoughts and theories. At 5 Freya had a language delay and could sit for 30 minutes in the car and not talk to me at all. I love to draw. Freya just wanted to go to the ruddy park. As a child I spent hours playing with dolls and mermaids: elaborate worlds almost mini-series that evolved over weeks…all quietly in my room with my sister. Freya just wanted to go to the park. Even if it was raining. To play in mud. It got to the point that I would walk into toy stores and think, “What would I hate to play with? What is the dumbest most useless toy in here?” Then I would buy that toy, take it home and Freya would think it was awesome. I spent YEARS of my life doing jigsaw puzzles. I loathe jigsaw puzzles. And I felt…disapointed. I was not having the parenting experience I wanted. So faat forward. Freya is 12. And she hasn’t changed. But now I often thank her profusely for being the only one of my children that doesnt TALK ALL THE RUDDY TIME. She is still an utterly different person to me. But now I guess I sort of like that. So I didnt get to read Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe to her, but I got other experiences I never ever in a million years thought I would have and didnt even know I would like because this wee cuckoo arrived in our nest. I wont go into all the details. Suffice to say she is a great kid with lots of interests. I remember talking to a friend about this when Freya was young. And she told me:” I think you are lucky. I think this child is going to show you a completely different way to be and that you will grow more from this experienvce than if you had a mini-me that ticked all your pre-prepared boxes. ” And now I can say I think she was right.
Maxabella says
An amazing perspective and oh so true – our little cuckoos really do open up a whole new world to us. Your Freya sounds awesome, BTW!! x