There are times to share my knowledge with the little ones.
There are other times to shuttup in the face of vitriolic abuse, that I am a patronising patriach of the not-so-little ones.
It s a difficult call these days.
I am an Educator. I explain useful things and at times not so useful things.This is one of my purposes in life.
Somehow this is translated as an overbearing nurturing by the fat one. Apparently being an Educator is not all what I thought it was cracked up to be.
Today I explain that if she looks up "Sweet Child of Mine" on Google that it is in fact "Sweet Child O' Mine". The "f" has been dropped as in twelve o'clock.
She ~ Madam Teenager ~ knows that there is no "f" in "Sweet Child O' Mine". Apparently this discussion is a sure-fire sign, that I think she is Stupid as in "Do you think I am Stooop-Id?"
There is so much emphasis in the air that the oxygen is getting thinner/
I decide to test the stupidity level, simultaneously raising the bar and also lowering the tone "Then ......Sod O". In the last word of cleverness, the Clever Biscuit, I think you agree, has been taken.
She laughs, then she looks at me as a token sad person in her life. She corrects me, in my brain is so much younger and quicker than yours way. She emphasises with a teenage skill in pronounciation aimed at reducing me to toddler status :
"Oh Touche ...Sod of....". Ho hum and double Ho hums. The last letter in cleverness is eating my biscuit, so to speak.
I am getting too old for this bar raising malarchy.