Dear Teenage girls,
It’s hard to imagine, but a very (very) long time ago I was a teenage girl myself. I know very well that you love sashaying along the pavement. Walking slowly. Very slowly. Because you can.
I get it.
Who wants to race home and do their homework when there’s shimmying down the sidewalk to be had, right? Gossiping non-stop with your friends. Because you won’t get to see them until…. oh…. tomorrow morning (at least). And walking side by side, closed ranks. Girl bosses in the making. Stuck together and perhaps not noticing that you were all entirely blocking the pavement for everyone else.
I mean why should you even care, right?
Everyone else can wait. Because, wrapped up in your teen bubbles, would it ever occur to you that not everyone has the luxury of strolling along? Like you can.
You see. When you’ve grown, and you have actual responsibilities then you will realise that for some people every second counts.
Today. Whilst you all blocked the pavement strutting along, not caring. I was trying to get past. Me. The mum. The one who was ducking and diving to get round you, but just couldn’t.
I could see that you noticed. I could see that you didn’t care. You thought… she can wait. But wait I couldn’t.
There’s an old saying, when it comes to men, hell has no fury like a women scorned. I think they got it wrong. It should be hell has no fury like a working mum on the school run.
And there, I spotted it. My chance to get round you all. A bus pulled up and opened its doors. As the entire line of you spun round to get on the bus, I leapt in front like a que jumper! But then kept going!
What the bl**dy hell! She didn’t even want the bus you all screamed. You didn’t like it. I didn’t like doing it. Sorry, I yelled back.
I don’t like pretending to be a bus que jumper just to be able to get past a teenage girl pack who were blocking the pavement. Stopping everyone from walking past.
But I’m a working mum. On the school run.