I can see why the Guardian doesn’t open articles like these to comments. A mother complains about her shiftless adult son who lives at home:
You sounded so bitter when you compared what I have in the bank with what you have. I know you are broke. You pay child support, repay debts, pay something towards your keep.
Poor guy is paying child support, hey.
What you can’t remember is the struggle when you were little to get round the supermarket with enough money in my purse, or to find dinner money for you, when Dad managed to wangle his way round the Child Support Agency.
Oh, his old man was the same? What a coincidence.
I worked long and hard for my pension.
She doesn’t clarify if this is a privately funded pension so I’d imagine it isn’t.
You have forgotten that I shared the money I inherited with you.
Aha. Worked hard for it, hey.
I have to recognise that by giving to you so often and so readily, I have created a person who is not nice to know, who just expects more, who takes it all for granted and who doesn’t know how to say thank you.
So she spoilt him throughout his childhood. But what about the old man? He should have stepped in when the boy was a petulant toddler and enforced firm, kind discipline.
But somehow, I couldn’t say no. Deep down did I blame myself for leaving your dad, for working too many hours, so I always rushed to rescue you too fast, never reprimanding, never blaming . . . ?
Oh, that’s right.
To discover how your kids are likely to turn out, don’t bother staring at tea leaves. Look in the fucking mirror.
Anyone want to lay bets on the grandson’s future?
Further reading: The Underclass and You
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