by Colin Ward

Created on: November 25, 2008   Last Updated: December 18, 2008

What is a child?. Is it that dribbling bundle of joy you cradle in your arms, or the queasy teenager, you try to hide from the neighbours, as he or she battles with the front door lock, setting off the alarm, way after cinderellas' carriage has turned into a pumpkin?

I am going concentrate on the latter, as it is beyond the battery life of my memory, to remember life before the dreaded teen stage. That milestone, at which your child starts to bang it's head on the wendy house door, and costs twice as much to take with you on public transport. For it is at this point, in your journey through life, that any recollection of cuteness is deleted and consigned to the recycle bin. It is here that your child will do it's utmost to press that 'empty now' button, and happily wave goodbye to any thoughts you might still harbour, of them as a flower to be nurtured with pride.

Having set out my stall, let's look at the goods on offer. Hmmm - not very much. Grunting and words not exceeding three letters seem to be it. But do not despair, because like the joy of birdsong, the teenage grunt is skillfully delivered, and within this nugget of communication, there is a message being conveyed. Sadly though, it is always the same - leave me alone.

The sparsity of reply is a common trait. Generally the vocabulary used in talking to a parent will not extend beyond the words 'yer', and the 'grunt'. You get used to this, and know, when you try to engage in conversation, what the reply will be.

For instance, 'have you had a good day?' will normally be met with 'yer'. Even if they had been through the best time of their life, they would not let on, because they would have to tell you about it, and that would not be cool. So if you get a 'yer', it means that they have had a better day. If you get a grunt though, this should sound alarm bells. Good luck though, because you will need one hell of a ladder to extract the problem from the burning house of emotion that smoulders before you.

Once, after reading one of those books about selling, I thought that I would be clever, and ask open questions. Questions that required more than a 'yes' or 'no'. So, instead I tried, 'tell me about your day?'. Sorted, I thought, until I got the reply - a grunt, a couldn't care less expression on the face, and an opening of the arms adorned with open palms. No words, but the body language said it was OK.

The inability to converse is a shock to the system. Your child, who has let you read to them, who has begged you to take them to the park, who has helped you fill the dishwasher, now wants nothing to do with you. You feel alienated and surplus to their requirements. And that's it - that's what they are saying. Trouble is, you know it is not that simple, and that's where the fun begins.

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