THE WRITING’S ON THE WALL

Olly has a new lethal weapon and it’s definitely mightier than the sword. In the past few weeks he has written on the walls, the sofa, the cushions, the chairs, the kitchen and anything else that has come within his pen’s reach. It is driving me crazy. I only have to turn my back for a moment and he’s at it. The final straw was when the dry cleaner told me that the condition of my lovely, new corduroy floor cushion was terminal as Oliver’s impenetrable inscriptions were impossible to remove. I mean it’s not as if he doesn’t get an opportunity to vent his creative flow - we regularly paint and draw, do collages, use stickers, Playdoh and any other Blue Peteresque activity (yes I know it’s Art Attack that leads the way these days but I am OLD). But I guess being creative is not what it’s about; it’s about making a mark, getting noticed, and asserting his rule. So when Steve came home after the corduroy cushion incident I was in despair. I got the "It’s just a phase" platitude and I began to raise my hands in horror, when Steve stopped himself mid-flow and said, or rather muttered, "though I guess in my case the phase went on for quite a few years".

And so it all came out. How, as a child, Steve had regularly written on his parents’ walls and furniture and in one particularly spectacular incident had spent a happy afternoon colouring in the pattern of a large section of the lounge carpet. As if it somehow mitigated this appalling act, he was at pains to stress to me how neatly he had done it and how he’d used matching colours to the carpet. Of course, he is having none of it when I suggest it might be hereditary, but I wouldn’t be so sure. I know that it’s probably not a priority of the Genome Project but I bet when the time comes we’ll find out that "Like Father, Like Son" applies to more than just hair colour. It also explains why "The Time It Took Tom" is such a massive favourite of Olly and Steve’s.

So now I am rushing round the house as frantic as Sleeping Beauty’s parents, desperately hiding any writing implement I can find. I had already taken the precaution of only ever purchasing washable pens and keeping my own pens well out of reach. But I know that just like Sleeping Beauty’s mum and dad all my best efforts will be in vain. Sooner or later Olly will discover some strange old lady sitting in a corner holding an unfamiliar implement in her gnarled and bony hands. My curious son will then be lured into her thrall and before we know it we will be consigned to a hundred years of graffiti as unattractive as any forest of thorns. Let’s hope that his pen control improves at least to the point where we can recognise what he’s drawing, and perhaps even pass them off as murals.

Whilst we’re on the subject of genes, Steve has just informed me that Billie is left-handed, a rather obvious fact that somehow has escaped my notice. He brought it to my attention in public of course, at a dinner party, just after I had been waxing lyrical about how close I felt to her and how much we seemed to bond these days. My sister is delighted as it’s further proof of her affinity to Bill (they can both curl their tongues too, which Steve and I can’t). Although I never paid any attention, and still don’t, to the remarks about who resembles which parent, these new traits of behaviour and physique are much more intriguing and compelling. And I think it’s these connections that provide the glue that sticks the family together. And of course if we start to show any gaps in the future Olly can always colour them in.

Quote of the Week:

Olly and his friend Max are peeing into the loo together. I happen upon them and they inform me that they are "making a mixture".

Juliet Jones lives in domestic chaos with husband Steve, son Oliver (aged 3) and daughter Billie (aged 2) in Hertfordshire.

RECOMMENDED BOOK

Nick Sharratt, Stephen Tucker (Paperback - Scholastic - 18 August, 2000).

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