“Let kids be kids.” This is what my husband tells me – all the time.
We are opposite. I say no. He says yes all the time. I make rules. A lot. Here are a few:
- Gadgets can only be used up to 9pm on weekdays provided they’re all done with their homework.
- I allow them to be on Social Media but yes, I have all the access, all notifs go to my inbox.
- Or they have to finish their homework first then they can go and play outside, in the condition that they should be home before the lamp post opposite the house turns on.
You can’t blame me. He’s not here. What they become will definitely reflect on me and how I raised them. No, I am not trying to be a perfect mom here but I just feel it’s the right thing to do.
But every time I allow them to play with their friends in the village, I see those precious smiles, hear their waves of laughter, they jump for joy, then I melt. My childhood memories suddenly live on. Those days when I used to run around the street with my playmates. The time we waited for the raindrops to fall. Picked gumamela flowers from the neighbors, and stole detergent from my aunties to make bubbles.
Then I come to my senses, forget about the house rules sometimes. My husband is always right about the thought “Let kids be kids”. Let them collect memories so they can also share them with their kids in the future.
