Let Kids Be Kids!

Today is Saturday. Like every other time, Awele’s mummy is dressing her up. They will be attending a party in the neighbourhood. Awele is standing with pride in her killer heels, giggling, watching mummy do what she knows how to do best. Mummy is ripping off her shorts with a blade. Awele will soon be…

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Today is Saturday. Like every other time, Awele’s mummy is dressing her up. They will be attending a party in the neighbourhood. Awele is standing with pride in her killer heels, giggling, watching mummy do what she knows how to do best. Mummy is ripping off her shorts with a blade. Awele will soon be looking like her favourite Hollywood actress. “Awele, my sexy.” Her mummy teases. “Dope baby.”

She runs pink lipstick on Awele’s thin lips, sketches supposedly perfect brows in place of her child’s shaved ones. Awele’s eyelids beam pink headlamps at each blink. Mummy is smiling. Her daughter is looking like her model. Awele catwalks for mummy to see, her earrings dangling along. They both giggle. “Awele, shake that bum really hard today.” Her mummy instructs. “There will be lots of prizes, you know.”

Other mums are peeking through their windows, watching mum and daughter wriggle like snakes, displaying acrobatic dance steps in the balcony. They are wondering why a child is being robbed of her childhood. Wondering why kids are made to grow up too quickly.

 

Awele will be shaking her bum at the party today, for all those prying teenage boys to see, for all those retarded paedophiles to lust over her young, fair body.

Awele steps out in style, like a prima donna. She meets other pre-teen girls in the estate, priding her self before them like a brazen peacock. “You girls still wear those.” She tells them, sizing them up and down with her eyes. “Anyways, you’ll are kids.” She says with a shrug. The gullible ones are depressed, wishing their mums could let them have a taste of the sugar Awele enjoys.

The other mums are still peeking through their windows. Still wondering. Wondering why this ridiculous pressure is put on kids. Wondering why the girl-child’s clothing is becoming tighter and shorter. Wondering why mums are setting up their daughters as bait for predators. Wondering whether their own mums raised them the same way.

Awele’s mum will post Awele’s picture on a social network. Awele will get 33 likes from people Mummy knows and 1,000 likes from people Mummy does not even know. And for Mummy, it will be progress. She will caption it: “My hottie pie.”

Really, childhood is fleeting. Let kids be kids. There is this inexplicable thing about phases of life and the memories they create. Let kids enjoy their right to childhood memories. Real childhood memories. If kids do all the adult stuff now, there won’t be much left for adulthood.

Responses

  1. Cavey
    I was talking with some friends a few days ago and we relieved our childhood memories; going to the garden and plucking those red flowers that have sugar/nectar inside them, playing in the rain, ten-ten, after round one, I Call On and all those other games, even watching teletubbies and tweenies because we wanted to watch Max Steel or Iron man and there was the Saturday mornings hosted by cadbury that made all the Ugo. C. Ugo assignments totally worth it. Those memories shaped us to be who we are today and how kids these days know how to operate an iPad before they can even crawl and while that may be cool, it robs them of something vital that they wouldn’t even know they lost and that’s what is heartbreaking. Thank you for this, Miracle. Thank you.
  2. Nelson C.J
    There’s an urgency in this post. Children are the most observant, and so it actually pays to revert their attentions to things of utmost imperative.

    I completely understand the fear that comes when one realises he or she can’t paint a genuine image of their younger years, all thanks to wanton distractions.

    Short. Witty. And urgent.

  3. Pephel
    Just wish I could meet you and buy you a drink. It is hard to find people still with moral fibre these days. Good story. Kudos.
  4. OluOlu
    Those of us who discovered abruptly that adulthood is a trap, wish longingly for our childhood days to somehow miraculously return only because we were allowed to be children. So these children that are already pseudo adults, what will they wish for when they discover the trap that adulthood is? They will resent their parents for making them grow up prematurely
  5. s/he
    I bless my mother for not letting me grow up at the pace I wanted. she never let me wear makeup or weaves (although I rocked telephone curls kpere). I got the little girl version of killer boots tho*chuckles* and damn dey were fine. my childhood was a blast and today I am more comfortable with my natural self than 75% of my mates.
    lol..ugo c ugo was bae but I never liked quantitative.

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