I tell my mother it’s all her and my dad’s fault I suffer with hay fever.
Of course I’m only teasing but herein is a kernel of truth.
On her wall hangs a picture of her, my three sisters and my brother – still a baby –taken in 1967. If you look closely you will notice not only is my brother’s hands wrapped in baby mittens but my sisters (aged between 2-7) are wearing pristine white gloves.
You see my dad had a chronic fear of us getting any kind of dirt or dust on any part of our bodies. Ironically he was certain being scrupulously clean was the only way to protect us from diseases. So every playtime outside was strictly supervised. Every playtime we - as my mum put it - had to be “wrapped”.
Today my siblings and I all suffer from one kind of allergy or other, are asthmatic and are prone to respiratory illnesses. Genetics have been ruled out.
Of course I don’t really blame her or my dad – they were very young parents and believed the “cleanliness is next to godliness” dictum but now as I sneeze, blow my nose, wipe my eyes and feel just miserable despite having tried and tested all the antihistamines on this planet – I make a promise to any unborn children I may have in the future.
I promise them the freedom to get down n dirty!
Charlie says: I hear ya!
Have a munchkin Monday everyone!
