When the pressure is on and you are faced with a request to add something else to your effectively infinite to-do list you ought, of course, to say “no”. That seems so unhelpful though. Even though you are not actually going to help you don’t want to appear unhelpful. So you say “I’ll think about it” or “Ok, I promise, IF I HAVE TIME”. The other person’s heart sinks because they know you mean no but, hey, at least you did not appear unhelpful. This absolutely does not work with children. Sophia has a brain like an odds and ends drawer: full of things, randomly scattered, retained because they look like they might one day be useful but probably won’t be and, even if they are, will be impossible to find when you need them. However, she keeps a well-organised mental filing system of things uttered in the form of a promise. Well-intentioned brush-offs become solemn oaths and she never ever forgets what you have undertaken to do. Today she reminded me that I had promised her a week ago I would tackle Sara over some Snakes and Ladders related dispute that had arisen between them. It was of such profound triviality I felt certain she would forget. I was wrong.
Sara is a degree more terrifying still. She loves lists. Arrive for breakfast and you’ll find her taking an imaginary school register. She will have written down a long series of names and each is meticulously ticked off as the imaginary pupils raise their hands. At the start of the holiday she said she would like to do something with, just her and me. I said “sure, whatever”. 10 minutes later she had a neatly drafted list of proposed activities each with a tickbox by them. The phrase “Sure, whatever” translates to “I solemnly and sincerely swear to do whatever you want, so help me God”. As the school holiday comes to a close we are nearly through the list. Today we went bike riding. As I furiously drafted urgent emails she sat in the living room, helmet on, sighing dramatically. I should not imagine I was weaseling my way out of my commitment in order to deal with work. She is a hard taskmistress but, I readily concede, excellent company.
