I tell Neel, 7 1/2, ‘C’mon – don’t
roll on the floor. Act your age!’
I tell my Mom, in her 70s, equally indignantly, ‘You can’t demand candy floss. C’mon, act your age!’
Because there are these rigid AYA (act your age) rules, aren’t they? Which we’re all trained in, without exception. These rules allow you to stare at morbid fascination, at someone digging his nose when you’re 3, but insist that you politely avert your eyes when you’re 30.
Niks at almost 5, launches himself at anyone he likes. ‘Launches’ because any other word won’t do this action justice. He doesn’t welcome you, or hug you, or even insinuate himself into your arms. He launches. He hits you with a hurricane force, that propels you backwards and out through the door which is supposed to welcome you in. If you survive in vertical position, he then climbs you – to land up somewhere with his legs wrapped around your neck. If you have fallen back onto the floor, he sits on top of you.
I, on the other hand, (at unmentionable age) smile, and do not throw myself or any of my body parts at you, lest you take it badly (if you are a woman too) or a little too happily (if you are male). I will smile at you whether I am thrilled you have come, or whether I have something burning on the stove, 2 assignments to hand in – and wish you’d freeze at the door and visit 2 hours later.
This is because I am AYAing.
Acting Your Age forces you to look interested when you’re falling asleep, to insist it’s no trouble when you’ve spent the whole morning cooking. In short, AYA teaches you, as you grow up, to learn to lie. And to stifle whatever is spontaneous and honest and straight from the gut, and to wrap it up in tinsel instead.
Learning : Can’t really go about telling people that they have wobbly chins, or that they talk too much. And can’t launch at guests or pick at bellybuttons in public or laugh till the food dribbles down your chin. Wottodo? Wottodo? Wottodo? C’mon – Act Your Age and tell me what to do!
I tell my Mom, in her 70s, equally indignantly, ‘You can’t demand candy floss. C’mon, act your age!’
Because there are these rigid AYA (act your age) rules, aren’t they? Which we’re all trained in, without exception. These rules allow you to stare at morbid fascination, at someone digging his nose when you’re 3, but insist that you politely avert your eyes when you’re 30.
Niks at almost 5, launches himself at anyone he likes. ‘Launches’ because any other word won’t do this action justice. He doesn’t welcome you, or hug you, or even insinuate himself into your arms. He launches. He hits you with a hurricane force, that propels you backwards and out through the door which is supposed to welcome you in. If you survive in vertical position, he then climbs you – to land up somewhere with his legs wrapped around your neck. If you have fallen back onto the floor, he sits on top of you.
I, on the other hand, (at unmentionable age) smile, and do not throw myself or any of my body parts at you, lest you take it badly (if you are a woman too) or a little too happily (if you are male). I will smile at you whether I am thrilled you have come, or whether I have something burning on the stove, 2 assignments to hand in – and wish you’d freeze at the door and visit 2 hours later.
This is because I am AYAing.
Acting Your Age forces you to look interested when you’re falling asleep, to insist it’s no trouble when you’ve spent the whole morning cooking. In short, AYA teaches you, as you grow up, to learn to lie. And to stifle whatever is spontaneous and honest and straight from the gut, and to wrap it up in tinsel instead.
Learning : Can’t really go about telling people that they have wobbly chins, or that they talk too much. And can’t launch at guests or pick at bellybuttons in public or laugh till the food dribbles down your chin. Wottodo? Wottodo? Wottodo? C’mon – Act Your Age and tell me what to do!
Yes, Jandy, societal pressures at their best. But hilariously captured, as always. It is interesting however to observe how some customs are allowed by those of any age in some cultures: For example, women wearing no top cover, whether they are 3 or 30, as you put it. Your AYA rules, are surely, set up by some critical fore-fathers in each society.
ReplyDeleteDear Anonymous, first of all, AYA and leave your name :).
DeleteHahahaha first of all stop saying things about Nik he is no launcher and he is a sweetheart...
ReplyDeleteI do agree that most times we do follow the AYA rules... but also must add that with time I have changed a bit I dont follow them most of the times when I am among strangers (as if they will recognise me) and when I am with really good friends (you are the top of the list)....and I do correct myself when I try tell Aaria to AYA ...
So stop telling my boys to AYA they are just perfect the way they are... and you too stop it since you can hardly keep it up hahahahahaha
Haha @Ira, I meant we sub-consciously get our kids to AYA. 'Big boys/ girls don't cry. Don't throw a tantrum in public.' See? Maybe it's just a process of maturing that we're trying to make sure happens to them earlier rather than later?
ReplyDeleteLove the lil 'launcher'! That's how it should be done.In this day and age of political correctness & false mannerisms - AYA has become sooooo very ingrained in us, that we are scared to be ourselves! A number of people in our family starting from my dad to my husband do not really know how to AYA. And I'm sure you guys will know this better than me if AYA has applied to me! The only one who does AYA is the lil one - hope we can keep it that way for a long time to come!
ReplyDeleteso keya is going to be taught to AYA by those who don't themselves. interesting. please tell me how it goes. :P
DeleteToo much non-target audience centric gyaan Jane...too much I tell you...please AYA and write something sensible like how to control global warming or something :P ;)
ReplyDelete:) the planet has not been acting it's age lately. noticed?
DeleteHa ha right you are Jandy....whatever your instinct may say, you have to talk the talk or risk walking a different, almost solitary path, eh? Trying to find a balance between being true to myself and still say the right things to people. Kinda goes back to your post about masks..... To some extent, I guess we have to lie by omission, like not telling the checkout lady at the supermarket that she is fat (exactly what kee did - yikes... Very very embarrassing).... So in my book, it is okay to act mature so as to not hurt someone.... And that has nothing to do with age..... U have given me super food for thought... Thank ye...
ReplyDeleteAnd btw, Niks has the makings of an awesome wrestler!!! Hugs to both the boys
Kee did that? yikes indeed. Neel called an ash-blonde woman 'old'. While I pretended he had got his manners from his father. But you have summarised my dilemna - and my conclusion. 'As long as it doesn't hurt someone'.
ReplyDeletePlease throw your body parts at me if I visit. Oh ha ha. And keep the Little Launcher on a leash.
ReplyDeleteHaha must tell you on what kids say just to continue on that (big blog idea for you)
ReplyDeletePlaying I Spy with my eyes and in that I asked aaria colours all was going well till I asked brown she looked around (easy would be the table chairs!!!!!! and the mats etc) and pointed to the man opposite us and said loudly He is brown...
and I died!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
@ira - brown, old and fat - what would the politically correct say to this???
DeleteHere its total ulta! My girls are always telling me "Please mumma AYA! while I go into throes of excitement on the road if I see a dog or a window box of geraniums!! but then I try hard to keep the child in me alive while mt 20 & 18 yr olds have started behaving like aunties!!
ReplyDelete