I was writing about associations yesterday. Of course as a parent, you become aware that you sometimes have a hand in creating associations (though usually not...) For example, we all try to give our children associations that make them remember Christmas as fun, magical, exciting, and not stressful, tense, and fattening. As a parent, you're the director of your own family movie.
So when it comes to the election, what kind of association will you be creating for your child? (Or should I say 'trying to create' - for as parents, as directors, we can only do our best...)
I am so grateful to my parents on this score. To me, a general election smacks of excitement. However they did it, they created an atmosphere in which we children knew that something important was afoot. We knew it was fun to talk about politics. We thought it was absolutely fabulous that they disagreed, and we tried to get them to argue (Mum was a staunch Labour supporter, Dad would never tell us outright on the basis that it was private, thereby generating a layer of mystery and added excitement to what we all knew was his Lib Dem vote - whatever the Lib Dem equivalent was at the time). Staying up to watch some of the results was a privilege accorded with age, and those of us sent to bed would be eager to hear the news in the morning. I remember going with my mother to vote, and being shown how to write the X, but not being allowed to do it - that was an important job and hers alone to do. I remember her saying "we're playing our part in history". What child would fail to experience a frisson of excitement at that?
I remember the thrill of naughtiness, when my mother got one of us to jump out of the car, and stick a small, round, red Vote Labour sticker on the nose of the Conservative candidate on the poster on the telegraph pole outside the post office. Zooming away in the Renault 4, it felt for all the world as if we'd been involved in a major heist. It wouldn't have made a jot of difference, I'm sure. We lived in the safest Tory seat in the country. Sir Ian Gilmour had a majority the size of... the size of... oh I don't know... the size of a very large thing. But we were exercising our right to freedom of speech (and maybe we inspired Red Nose Day).
I'm not doing such a good job with my own children, though I have used the "playing our part in history" line a few times, and I have told them how my grandmother couldn't vote till she was 29. If there's an election every five years, you don't honestly have many chances with your children over the course of their childhood. Four? Perhaps five or six if the terms of government are shorter? At least with Christmas you get the opportunity every year.
At the last election, we were living in Scotland. I was working, and Husband was at home (see, I haven't always been a trailing spouse... well, I have actually, that was just a blip... and it didn't work out too well... and why am I defensive about the trailing spouse thing?) Anyway, I charged Husband with making an event out of voting. It had to be fun, but full of gravitas, I said. Memorable, at the very least. The net result was that he crumbled under the pressure and voted Scottish Nationalist by mistake. I bet the SNP doesn't get many votes from English people. Their candidate had the same surname as the local Lib Dem MP (Menzies Campbell), and in the voting booth with a wriggly baby and active preschooler, Husband saw the name at the top of the list and looked no further. To be fair to him, I have to say that when I voted I did notice that the first names were printed very small, much smaller than the surnames, so it was an easy mistake to make. Are there rules about size of names on ballot papers, I wonder? It's an area of potential corruption, come to think of it.
What about you? Are you making history with your children?
And here's a picture of a Renault 4, the perfect getaway car, though ours was dark green (better camouflage).
Photo credit:
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