I looked thoughtfully at PC Pookie who washed thoroughly her unspeakable, laying on the carpet and thought about a TV interview about children, made by psychiatrist, therapists, psychologists and children specialists. Which had nothing to do with Pookie's occupation. And then I wondered have these people ever been children, or even a babies ? It seemed to me as if all children fell from heaven as an adult, as they were all talking about children as if they were some aliens.
They analysed everything. Why did the child smash the door and didn't close it softly ? Because he was angry at his mother. Who would have thought that ? Why are their rooms a mess ? I guess mine has been too and theirs ?
As all these specialists pretend that the behaving of an adult is due to his childhood, I wonder why so many children of them really have psycological troubles ! They should be perfect. But probably by analyzing their children, they forgot the reality.
I don't know why these people never think about their own childhood ? Or at least it seems so to me. I remember a lot from even when I were 2 years old. At that time I lived with my grandparents in a small country village, as it was 1945 and Francfort where my parents used to live were to 80 % in ruins, thanks to good old Hitler. I remember when I were with my grandpa when the American soldiers moved in sitting on big tanks and throwing sweets to the children and my grandpa who never ever had hit me, gave me a lightly slap in my face, because I wanted to take a sweet and he told me not to take anything from these dirty american occupants. I remember because at that age I didn't know what an american or an occupant was, for me it had been a big unjustness and I couldn't understand why I were not allowed to take the sweet. That was the only thing what mattered and that's why I remember. Otherwise I probably wouldn't.
There are so many things you remember because of some special reason or why did I cry one Christmas eve because I got a boy doll instead of a girl doll ? Or why did that cow slap me in the face because I wanted to milk her ? and why did my mother push an awful screem because I wanted to blow up a baloon ? (it was a condom) or why I always see the picture of my grandpa sitting on the floor and throwing a bread and a knife against the wall, because my grandma had taken the chair while he intended to sit down ? There are so many things I could write a book about.
And then when these children specialists are talking about teenager's behaving it comes to the worst. Did they never smoke when they were 13 or 15 ? Did they never fight with mum or dad because they want to stay out late or whatever ?
But now the question is when did I become an adult ? When did I switch over to the other camp ? Was it at 2O no, surely not, there I made high life without thinking about anything. Maybe at 30 when I became a mother ? That was it probably, at least in my case. Yes, when I had to take responsabilities but really I'm not sure. Some people become adults, maybe earlier, later or never. Anyway what is being adult ? Sometimes when I hear about a serial killer, a pedophile or a professional killer I try to imagine them as toddlers, why did they became criminals ?
Not every bad childhood makes humans to killers etc. Not every orphan is a bad father or mother because he never had one and not every human coming out of an alcoholic family is also alcoholic.
Pookie had a quite astonished look in her eyes and said, what happens to you today, thinking about world problems instead of petting me ! Others already tried to change the world but nobody could.
PC Pookie meauwed also that I am a philosopher today and that this is boring and I better should tell the readers to have a look at her new picture in the sidebar, if the sidebar is up, it depends on Blogger's mood.
This is for the a.m. company.
I worked 3 h to get the sidebar up !!