delphi: An illustrated crow kicks a little ball of snow with a contemplative expression. (Default)
[personal profile] delphi
Six Sentence Sunday: Post six sentences from whatever you're working on, if you're game!

Kathleen considered herself an excellent mother, which to her meant never saying no to any of her boys. The fact that she couldn't always deliver on the yeses didn't matter. It was the thought that counted.

Of course, boys needed discipline, and that was why she had worked so hard to make sure there was always a good male role model in the house. She'd made a special effort to date from the pool of her sons' teachers, coaches and scoutmasters in the hopes that some of those fatherly instincts would take root. To her eternal disappointment, the boys never seemed to appreciate her efforts.


(Team Fortress 2 - an RP ficlet doing double-duty as backstory for a Scout/Sniper fic)

(no subject)

Date: 2020-08-18 01:35 am (UTC)
perverse_idyll: (Default)
From: [personal profile] perverse_idyll
Whew. Every single thing about these 'strategies' is making the hair rise on the back of my neck. Talk about delusional parenting in a nutshell. The narrative tone makes Kathleen sound genuinely naive and well-meaning - and a monster of narcissism. This would be a killer character summary fit for a piece of original fiction, with the economy and elegance you employ to nail a certain kind of human blindness: laziness that calls itself soft-heartedness, stupidity masquerading as indulgence, and selfishness that insists every indefensible choice is only trying to do what's best for you, baby.

Weirdly, I still feel sorry for her. But I feel a hundred times sorrier for her boys. (I also wonder how many boys she'll produce by the time she's no longer fertile, and pray there are no girls, whose childhoods would be a nightmare.)

(no subject)

Date: 2020-08-18 04:01 am (UTC)
perverse_idyll: (Default)
From: [personal profile] perverse_idyll
Eight sons? My immediate reaction is: NO. During WWII? I can only imagine what a monster of a mother I would have turned out to be. Actually, trying to imagine myself as any sort of mother induces an adamant, standing-stones-on-a-hilltop-sized NO.

Runt of the Litter Syndrome does tend to cross over into the spectrum of survival strategies. It's interesting how often runts, given time, physically outgrow their runtiness but remain emotionally stuck in dead-last position. It means they can spend their lives struggling to prove themselves. Or constantly creating a ruckus to remind everyone they're there.
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