by Bernard Francis

I overheard a conversation in a cafe recently. A woman talked about how she and her daughter were good friends. The woman must have been in her mid-40s: her daughter had just turned 20.

The mother’s delusional. No 20-year-old I know of wants their parent to be their best friend. They’d be the laughing stock or their mates. Can you imagine the daughter saying to her mother, “Come on, Mum, hurry up. My mates are here and we have to get going so we don’t miss the illegal street race. And don’t forget the booze.” … I think not.

Parents are not supposed to be their offspring’s best friend. They are to raise them and install values and morals, not get hammered with them. And, anyhow, a 20-year-old doesn’t know which side is up.

For the first five years they’re learning not to wet themselves, how to speak and feed themselves. For the next 10 years they think they know it all, but in reality know bugger all. And for the last five years, if they’re lucky, they may realise they haven’t even scratch the surface yet and are willing to learn.

So, in adult terms, the cafe woman is best mates with a 5-year old. My role at home is to tell my daughter – when she thinks she knows it all – to pull her head in and sit down.

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