BRINGING UP THE MOTHER

New Zealand Listener, Volume 3, Issue 53, 28 June 1940, Page 42

BRINGING UP THE MOTHER

(Written for "The Listener" by

WANDA

HALL

wireless in the mornings. Perhaps if Barbara had her sleep after lunch instead of before it would be better, there was generally some music then, and it would be less disturbing than these dietetics. When she heard what they ought to eat and thought of what Jack liked to eat it seemed impossible to bring about any co-ordination. Of course, as far as Barbara was concerned she could do as she liked while Jack was at work, but when he came home at night he liked to find Barbara sitting up in bed ready to search his pockets eagerly really must stop listening to the

for the chocolate she always found. Then she went to sleep, sucking happily, and goodness knew what would become of her teeth. It was all very well to say "Give the child an apple or a piece of raw carrot. last thing at night," but she knew what Jack’s comment would be if she suggested his making the exchange in his pocket, It would be the same as when she had given him wholemeal bread and lettuce for his lunch instead of the usual half-dozen iced cakes. (Continued on opposite page)

BRINGING UP THE MOTHER (Continued from previous page) Then there was Barbara’s " bringing up." What with the people who said. "Treat them like grown-ups," and the people who said, "Treat them like a separate species,’ and the people who said, "Treat them like puppies" (every young girl should take a kennel maid’s course) she began to think she ought to "treat" Barbara. Well, she had made an effort; she had substituted a tub of water and some mud in the backyard for the spank she usually gave Barbara when she found her squeezing tooth paste in the bathroom. But Barbara persisted in preferring the tooth paste, and Jack said " Hang it all! Why shouldn’t the kid?" and gave her a big new tube all to herself to squeeze as much as she liked, So she’d

take the child and the dog for @ walle and not worry any more. They sat on the station steps to watch the rail-car as it roared by. A gust of warm air blew in their faces as it passed and from under its tail floated something like a piece of dusty grey felt. It hung for a moment, buoyed up by the wind, then dropped, and at the same moment she began to run towards it. That pathetic scrap of old carpet surely couldn’t be-but it was, He lay between the rails, ears pricked, eyes bright, looking so cocky, so very much alive-only he wasn’t. Then came Barbara’s voice, hushed for once: "Is he really dead, Mummy?" — "T’'m afraid so, darling, but don’t worry, he can’t have been hurt." "Oh! Then can I have a pussy now, Mummy?"