I’ve heard that the Canadians are clever with their cars. During winter, when the roads are covered in salt to melt the ice, many Canadians lock up their shiny summer car for the cold months and pull out the rusty old banger. As long as its heater and radio remain functional and it can move, who cares if it rusts to pieces? That’s what they have it for, to take the ravages of the winter and to keep their shiny car, well, shiny.
When couples reproduce, a winter-of-sorts sets in: a very cute yet quietly destructive being enters their lives and new parents need an old banger of a house, a robust and functional dwelling that can withstand the child rearing years. They could try and have and enjoy nice things in a nice house, but before long it will look as though an entire battalion of rampant puppies have had their way with the place. It’d be like trying to read a good book in a hurricane.
You see, young children don’t appreciate their parent’s possessions...or any possessions for that matter. Materialism is an unfortunate attribute that only sets in later in life once they become self-aware and image-conscious. A two-year-old doesn’t care how clean or stylish your dining setting looks! Food and fun are their priorities in life. Mess is best. The world is their toilet.
A recent text from Jas illustrates this rather graphically:
“Come home ASAP. Going crazy. Zane just pooed on the new outdoor setting”.
Aside from my concern about my wife’s child-induced insanity, I spared a thought for Zane joyfully running around in our large backyard, in the warm weather, naked. Obviously the urge to poop arose; did he utilise the available 400 square metres of lawn (and weeds) for his deposit? Of course not. Within the vastness of our garden Zane singled out a brand new cushion as an appropriate location for his steaming turd.
Our unclothed boy could have been let loose on a football field that was entirely empty apart from a football sitting innocently at the kick-off spot, and I’m sure he would have decided to squat above the ball to coil a little cumberland sausage on it without soiling a single blade of grass.
So parents really need a different home until the kids are old enough to move out. The house needs to be as sturdy as a German bunker yet as resilient as a bouncy castle. Kids, especially toddlers, don’t give a toss about your lovely plush pile carpet. They’ll fling curry over their shoulder from a great height without any thought of where it might land. They’ll swing saucepans about without any consideration to what delicate pot-plants, vases or pets might be wiped out. They’ll stab your furniture with a fork out of sheer amusement.
The Home For Parents should come complete with rooms and fittings that can be hosed down with a fire hose. All floor coverings should have surfaces that can withstand an epic hailstorm. Tables, chairs and sofas should be able to be survive a paintball competition. Walls should be made of Teflon so that paint and poo wipes clean off.
If Ikea released a range of non-stick titanium furniture it’d be perfect for such a home.
In short, such a house needs to be one in which you can let a plump rabbit and a pack of starving, rabid dogs loose in for an hour (or until the rabbit disappears) and you can quickly have it looking as clean and orderly as it was before.
Has this place been invented? And if it has, where is it so we can move in?