A view on Parenting

I reflected last Father’s Day on the significance and relevance of the parent/child relationship or PCR. Even as children ourselves we felt the need to adopt. The sensitivities of a bygone age indicated that “maternal” instincts only applied to girls and dolls, but we should not play down the origin of “boys toys” and the affection a child of any gender persuasion might have for a favourite possession or pet, showing all the love and care that may be applied to any offspring. A practice run for future PCRs.

So, I decided to take stock of where I currently stood in terms of PCRs. I have fathered two actual children, for want of an actual label here I will say DNA children. I am connected to two further children through my relationship with my soul mate. Each of these four are grown adults and in relationships. That takes the PCR count to eight. I will point out that for all of the above I am not the sole P in the PCR. I am aware that, while an individual’s “technical” parents number precisely two, this is not always the case. Biological parents, surrogate parents, donor parents, adoptive parents, step parents Et al. In claiming a PCR, I am in no way, and would not in any way, impinge or reflect on any other PCR.

So, where was I? Eight. Now some of these eight may feel some angst or resentment at the obvious and equal status of the next two. While some parts of the population refer to them generically as Fur Babies, I refer to them, specifically and far more accurately, as my two Kidoodles. These PCRs have a different dynamic, obviously. Although they do not give me gifts, they also do not “borrow” money and they are easily persuaded by dried liver treats.

Ten. Up to 10 now. At present, I believe that 10 living children is all I can count on, as I have no real bond with the cats that sleep in the front garden, the bird that nested in the tree outside the bedroom window or the possums that torment Nine and Ten, above. While I speak to these creatures, I count them only as acquaintances. And so we move onto the inanimate. There is a PCR with that prized possession, or piece of equipment, that makes your job, hobby or pastime special. Be it a special bat or club, a spec’d-up computer or a thermomix, if these babies are worthy of a name, they are worthy of a PCR. My latest baby is Kenny, my alto saxophone. Together, Kenny and I are learning to make beautiful, soulful music and plan to continue long into the future, or until the neighbours revolt.

Unlike many, I do not consider my car to be my baby. No PCR could survive the angry tirades, peppered with profanity, reserved for a disobedient motor car. However, whatever floats your boat or flies your plane. While these machines could form a PCR for you, they wouldn’t for me.

*** WARNING: BLATANT PROMO FOLLOWING***

The exception to the above of course will be Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, both the flying floating car and the production from Panorama Musical Theatre opening at the Frankston Arts Centre in March 2020. I have always applied the ethics of a PCR to a project such as theatrical production. This embryonic offspring may only be in my care for a short time, but it will live on the fond memories of all that see it. Book now!

So there you have it. My take on the PCR. Please share this with anyone who might be interested. Parental guidance is recommended.

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