Stickers

Been a pretty good week here at Cullimore Cottage. Mainly because I have come up with a brilliant and brand new idea. Must say, in all modesty, I think it’s a complete corker. Bit of a bonus brainwave, quite frankly. And it’s really simple too. Got the idea from my past. Many years ago, when our kids were young, we used to take them to the dentist. If they were well behaved; didn’t squeal, didn’t squirm or bite anyone too much, they were given a sticker on their way out. As a sort of treat to boost their self esteem and also encourage good behaviour next time.

In case you are wondering, my brilliant idea is simply to get some stickers made up, right here, right now. Not quite the same as the ones the dentist used to give out way back when. That would be foolish. No. These stickers will simply say, “ good boy.” In case it’s not obvious, the person who will be wearing these wonderful stick on messages, is little old me. Sigh. Let me explain the thinking.

It all began when we took one of our grand daughters out the other day. Mrs Cullimore was with us and we were driving off to some distant spot to enjoy a bit of rest and relaxation together. As we drove along, this grand daughter casually told me I was a terrible driver. The second worst in the family, in fact. Which I felt was a tad harsh. Especially since this particular child isn’t actually old enough to even reach the steering wheel of a car, let alone drive one. Sigh. Feels like she may have been given some rather unkind ideas by a certain, Mrs Cullimore.

Despite the potential loss of self esteem, I didn’t let it get me down. I sucked it up, like a buttercup and kept on trucking along. Though it did dawn on me that I deserved a bit more credit for my driving skills than I was being given. However, don’t know about you, dear reader, but with a family like mine, I knew that was never going to happen. So I kept my eyes on the road, my mind on the traffic and my hands very firmly on the wheel.

Later on, our grand daughter started talking about her favourite film. It’s a cartoon, naturally. She was most pleased with herself because she had watched a show about how cartoons are made. She started telling me all about it. How people go into studios, talk into a microphone and put on voices for different characters.

At this point, I felt I had something to add to the conversation. So I casually mentioned that in a previous life I had worked in kids television. Helping to make cartoons. One of my jobs had been to find children who would provide the voices for cartoons. Once I had found them, I would go into the studio with these kids, to tell them what voices to put on. For some reason, I thought this information would impress my grand daughter. Make her suddenly see me in a whole new, glowing and glorious light. Maybe even give my driving skills a bit of an upgrade. Sadly, I was mistaken. Very much so.

She basically yawned, made a gesture in the air as if to wave my words away, then casually repeated that I was a rubbish driver. Which is when the brainwave occurred. It struck me that since no-one in my family was ever going to treat me with the respect I deserved, or in fact, any respect whatsoever, there was only one thing for it. The only person who was ever going to give me the pat on the back I so richly deserved, was in fact, me. Little old me.

But rather than try to actually, factually, pat myself on the back, I decided to do something much easier to achieve. I decided to tell myself that despite the way everyone around me was treating me, I was, nevertheless, a good person doing the best I could, in difficult circumstances. Which is when the words, good, and, boy, flashed into my minds eye.

Tried saying them to myself in my head, must admit, didn’t do much good. Which is when the mental image of me and my kids at the dentist all those years flashed into my mind. Jumping jiminy, I thought. That’s it. That’s the ticket. What I need is a pocket sized piece of paper with some good boy stickers on it. Then, whenever life in general, and my family in particular, are getting me down, all I need to do, is reach into my pocket and slap on a sticker. A good boy sticker. Perfect.

Until next time, all the best