Resolved

"Have you ever made a New Year Resolution that you kept?"

There is something that usually follows the new year, resolutions, new year resolutions they are called. The tag 'new year' is supposed to set them apart, is n't it? Resolutions, goals, plans, they have different names but mean the same thing, that is, what have you not been doing that you now decide to be doing in the new year, or what have you been doing that you still want to be doing but doing differently? Or what have you been doing in the past that you decide to stop doing. I am not a 'new year resolution person' I have discovered that over time. I am that kind of person that has long term goals in my mind but don't really have clear cut short term goals to get there and so far in spite of  that, things seem to fall into expected places for me. Was it not Tai Solarin of blessed memory that said, don't look before you leap, because if you look too much you might end up not leaping, so in most cases, I go on and leap and later sort out whatever the consequences are.

However towards the tail end of last year, I took stock and I reawakened my self to the fact that the only main ambition that I have always nursed and not yet done anything about is to start a school. I have always wanted to start a school, if there is anybody that I envy, it is those in the education provision sector. It is one thing I would regret if I end up not doing, and as the clock ticks and I get older, I become afraid and think what if I get too old to start and I can't start any more? It has become a fearsome fear that I have to overcome.

Since the first step to solving a problem is realizing you have a problem, I have identified this problem, it is the only want that I have that has refused to go. So it has to be satiated, but what has been keeping it from being satiated, a few reasons I identified are: 1. Fear of failure? No, definitely not, along the line I have delved into some other projects and businesses and they have been successful, so what  can it be? 1. Indecision on whether to start small with maybe a daycare centre/ crèche or a full blown primary school ? 2. Location, 3. Other businesses/ distractions that have made me loose focus along the line. 4. Family considerations. 5. Capital.  And 6. Perhaps lack of support from expected family quarters.This Daily Post Writing Prompts by wordpress is a good thing, it has made me realize how fearsome the fear has become. 

I have therefore decided that I will go on and leap although this time with a little looking, I will start by drawing up a long term plan and this time made up of short term goals to aid it, wake up that giant sleeping inside of me and get to work. I will keep you posted about how far I have gone by the end of the year. And oh, I almost forgot, I will learn how to bake.

What are your own plans for the new year?

Stroke of midnight.

Where was I when 2013 melted into 2014?

I was in church, just as I was in church last year, two years ago and for the past  Zillion years or thereabouts. I have always made an habit of ensuring that when the clock strikes 12 am on the last day of the year, my family and I would be in church. There is nothing as soothing and reassuring as being in church on the last second of the last minute of the last hour of he tlast day of the year. I am one of those people who have preference for a particular area or specific seat in church and if for any reason, I do not get that seat, my "spirit does not flow". So this means I have to make an extra effort  to get to church earlier than most people.

My family, early birds for the  cross over service.

There is no crowd like the crowd of the last day of the year, the church is usually filled to overflowing, there were seats on the streets for people to sit, there were more people standing than those sitting, no matter the number of chairs provided, they are never enough.

There was a festive feeling in the air, everyone was gaily dressed

Me, in my Sunday best (what our people call "bottom box")

and the atmosphere was charged, there seemed to be a general realization that we were there not of our own making, we were there because God granted it that way. We danced like never before, we clapped, we sang at the top of our voices, solemn hymns and gospel songs. Hugs became the new hello, we were eager to exchange greetings, to trade back thumpings, to laugh whole heartedly for the smallest of reasons. The lead chorister, a friend of mine loosened up, she was not her usual shy self, all her songs were favourites, the way she led us was different, it was as if her life depended on it or that she needed to show appreciation for what God had done for her that year. End of year or what we call cross over service is usually not a time for long sermons, it started with thanksgiving, the Pastor echoed the reasons why we should be thankful, reasons that were obvious already. This was followed by alter call, cross over service alter call is like no other, loads of people, mostly youths came  out in their hundreds to give their lives to Christ. Serious  "back to sender prayers" were said. The service ended with thanksgiving, prayer points were used for the countdown into the new year.As soon as the clock struck 12, there was a loud chorus of happy new year accompanied with moving around the church auditorium, hugging friends, family and  even complete strangers, perceived haters and enemies alike and wishing one another a happy new year.
 There were loud bang, bang, bang sounds of fireworks from outside. Because of the fireworks and traffic jam, a journey that would take about 5 minutes from my church to my house took about an hour, but we did not mind, in fact we enjoyed it. Back home, the smell of a new beginning was in the air. It was a new year indeed. We all exchanged another round of "happy new year" and talked into the first day of 2013.

What does Christmas mean to you?

 Christmas  is in the air, I can sniff it, can you? Stumbled upon a blogpost that asked a question, "how do we want to make Christ the centre of our Christmas celebrations?" The first thought that came to mind was well, we have been doing it since I was a kid, even before we knew that was what we were doing. By we,  I mean children in my nieghbourhood, we would get an old pillow, put it in a plain coloured pillow case, draw an ugly face on it , tie a rope round its neck and drag it round the whole nieghbourhood beating it mercilessly and chanting, " Judasi, ole, o pa Jesu je, ole" meaning, "Judas, thief, he ate up Jesus, thief. We would beat it till all the filling in the pillow would burst out and there would be nothing left. And oh, the fun we had doing that, we had been told on and on about Judas betrayal of Jesus, that nobody had any mercy on Judas. We would go from house to house and grown ups would give us money, coins to be precise, those were the days when Nigeria still spent coins. We would not come back home until the pillow had spilled out all it's contents. Compared to modern day Lagos, where neighbours  hardly know neighbours,and where no parent would allow their children out of their sight not to talk of to go roaming the streets because of the fear of kidnappers etc.

Neighbours exchanged porcelain dishes of piping hot jollof rice, fried meat and chicken across all religions, you do not have to be a Christian. Christmas was the busiest period for tailors, everyone both young and old would make a special "aso  odun" to be worn on Christmas day. Girls would do special Christmas hairstyles, "irun odun" and boys would have new haircuts. Perhaps the icing on the cake was a trip to father Christmas grotto, either at Kingsway, Leventis stores or UTC stores, those were the three departmental stores then. I was told that on one of such trips, instead of me being scared of father Christmas as most children used to be, I actually removed his beard out of curiosity and the poor guy had to sieze it from my grasp and quickly put it back on. Christmas celebration was on the streets, dancing, singing, eating from house to house, it was a communal thing.

Reminds me a little about "Let's go a-fishing", although with a little bit more seriousness,this is usually organized by  RCCG churches to celebrate Christmas, it entails  sharing of tracts, going through the streets telling people about Jesus, planting a new church and inviting those in the neigbourhood to worship and fellowship, cooking, and sharing of gifts in some instances.

It was on Christmas day that I commenced my parenting journey, I became a mother on Christmas day around 5pm thirteen years ago. When the baby

My first baby,God's Christmas present for the 2000. 

seemed to be slow in coming out, an hospital staff had joked that "this christmas baby might become a boxing day baby if she does not hurry up and come out". the hospital Santa Claus was with me in the delivery room. . The long awaited baby finally joined us around 5pm, I was so exhausted that I slept off and did not wake up until the following evening. Meanwhile,we did not know that the hospital had a policy of not charging for delivery of any baby born on Christmas day  until we were ready to leave and we asked for the bill, instead of the bill, what we were presented with was a red carpet treatment, snapping of photos with the owners and top management of the hospital and presentation of a notification of birth, what a wonderful way to spend Christmas. Since  then we usually celebrate Christmas with friends and loved ones and we have not missed our yearly  Christmas party,

Our Christmas party of year 2013. 

I have added giving out of take away packs of jollof rice and drinksto all the security guards manning the gates of my estate, drivers and all those on essential services, that we take their services for granted. I combine this with going a- fishing with my church either on Christmas eve or the day after Christmas.

To me, Christmas period is a time to wind down, to relax, to be merry, to forgive and forget, to overlook many things including wrongs. To catch up with old friends, to be thankful, to celebrate, to be merry, to share with friends and family. Now what about you? What does Christmas mean to you?

Of robust replies and open letters

Parenting? It is not easy especially at these modern times. We have to strike a balance between contradiction, which is the fundamental truth of parenting, we want our children to trust and yet to question. If they trust too much, we become worried and wonder how they will cope in this world of deceit and if they question too much nko? Another wahala, we will become exasperated and wonder the kind of child they are. On my parenting journey, I  find myself in situations where robust replies are required, apologies to Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo ever, unlike Fatoyinbo, I cannot live my constituents hanging, I cannot afford that luxury so I would usually do my best to supply the answer that I think fit, in line with the situation at hand. Lets listen to one of such conversations;

My eight year old, (we will call her T3): Mum?

Me: Yes? ( absentmindedly) 

T3: I thought you said Mr Razak just had a baby?

Pregnant man?

Me: Yes, and so la la what? (becoming curious, thinking Ki ló tun de o? Can't the electrician have a baby any more)

T3: ( getting bolder) I did not see him when he was pregnant.

See me see trouble, everybody burst into laughter. Insanity is indeed hereditary, I mean, you get it from  your children. I had to quickly come up with a robust reply ; 

Me: It was Mr Razak's wife that had the baby not Mr Razak

T3: Then how come the baby now belongs to Mr Razak?

Me: ( Trying to keep a straight face) When a man and a woman are married, it is the woman that will have the baby for the man, and the baby will be for the two of them

T3: (Still confused) Why mummy?

Me: Because that is how God made it.

T3: So Daddy has never been pregnant?

Me: Nope.(heaving a sign of relief thinking the coast was finally clear )

T3: You are the one that has been giving babies to Daddy?

Me: Yes.

T3: So if it is a woman that gives babies, can she give the babies to whoever she wants, like if she does n't want to give their daddy anymore, can she give them to somebody else?             

Me: Nope, she can't 

Eight: But why? 

I know how her mind works, so I know she must have started having ideas about the possibility of changing Daddies if  situation demand such..

So parents, especially fathers, to rule out the possibility of receiving an "open letter" from your children like the one Obasanjo just received from Iyabo, it is up to you. If you know how to shoot without missing which has resulted in that child, you should have all or some of what  it takes to be a good parent, if not a great one.

Iyabo's letter to her father has shown us that a father occupying the most envied position in the country, ie the position of number one citizen of the country is not enough, a child riding effortlessly to the National Assembly  as a member because of who their father is, is not enough either. Yorubas it is that say, the fowl has perched on the rope, the fowl is not comfortable but neither is the rope, Iyabo

Iyabo and her Father.

might be a cursed child, but has it made Obasanjo happier? So when we are done with abusing and reigning curses on Iyabo and using big grammar to describe her action, and letting us know how she has gone against God' s spelt out instruction( the only one with a promise) ; honour your father and your mother, that your days may be long on the surface of the earth Exodus 20:12, we should pick out lessons from the saga and apply them to our own situation and circumstances, no matter how good our relationship with our children might be there will always be room for improvement. The brouhaha that has resulted from Iyabo's letter  made me  realize that there are more parents that deserve such letters but are lucky because their children have refrained from giving them because  of the honour your father and your mother instruction.The time to start making amends however is now. Nobody is indispensable but we can make ourselves valuable.

Consumerism...."panti" and "ripoff"

More and more, kids are being bombarded with messages to consume, millions of money is spent to get children to nag their parents to buy more stuff. Children's programs are filled with adverts to the extent that more time is spent on adverts than on the program being shown. No aspect of family life is left unaffected, there are gadgets to help in virtually all aspects of family life and activities, and these gadgets also claim to save time in the process. The gap between what we need and what we want is ever widening, we don't seem to ever be able to catch up.

As with other things in Nigeria, consumerism is in mega proportions, and events such as children birthday parties have been abused and twisted out of forms. A well known school has had to limit children's birthday celebrations to sharing just the birthday cake and reading a book together and in some schools outright ban has been placed on children's birthday celebrations in the school premises, after some parents  of primary school students developed the habit of organising birthday lunch to be served by a well known and very expensive Chinese restaurant right in the school premises just to mark their child's birthday. What in modern times  is termed "goody bag" or "party pack"

goody bag/party pack

has become a  "weapon of mass destruction" that is used to destroy our children's innocence and happy childhood. Birthday anniversaries that should be looked forward to, have become a source of anguish,  fear and depression, for parents and children alike, the competition has  become very fierce and ridiculous at the same time. It is only in Nigeria that a one year old's birthday anniversary will have up to 500 guests in attendance.

Children's birthday party.

Under aged children are dressed in adult clothing,wear adult hairstyles and are armed with the latest and most sophisticated communication gadgets like mobile phones, tablets etc.There are  gadgets that are supposed to help children study, help them memorise, apps to keep them company for example,'talking Tom' and 'talking Angela', ( by the way talking Angela almost replaced me in my daughters life within a period of just a week when she was on midterm break, now you understand why I am very jealous and wary of it).

Talking Angela

There are game consoles that not only lead to addiction but also erode the child's interpersonal skills like having normal conversation with people in real life.

You are a parent and find yourself trying to bring up a good child under these circumstances, no doubt you will be met with serious resistance by your child and society. What can you do?

1. Set a  good example. Start with yourself. Be sure that you can afford and sustain your life style. If you love to keep up with your neighbours, always chasing after the latest craze  the latest fashion or fads, whether you  can afford it or not, then you need to have your head self examined.

2. Do a self evaluation. Go home, take a second look and evaluate what you have, in a gentle manner carry your child along. Do you really need replacements for those things you already have?

3. Before you buy anything, make a window shopping trip, think thrice , go home think again, then have a second trip, if you are convinced you still need it, then and only then should you go ahead.

4. Consider cheaper alternatives, if you really must buy and it will serve the same purpose, please go for that.

5. This point is based on the premise that you are friends with your child, over time, jokingly but lovingly help her to deflate her "cravings"  for stuffs. The  term that we use in my family is "PANTI" panti means rubbish or something that is not only useless but will end up taking up much needed space. My children have been trained to admire the coolest of gadgets and walk away without any longing because they are sure it is "Panti" . Before, they used to say "mummy will say it is panti, but now they themselves can identify panti without any outside help, and are so sure and convinced within themselves to the extent that they will say it is "Panti", without prefixing it with "mummy will say".

6. You can also have a "heart to heart" talk with your child,  any time a particular item wants to come in between you and her. Ask her if she honestly thinks your family can not afford whatever is the bone of contention at that particular time, the answer will most likely be in the affirmative (i e we can afford it) follow the first question with the second, that why does she think we will not be buying, it will now dawn on her that it is a "rip off", (this is another term of ours), this means although, it might have some value, it is unnecessarily too expensive.  A good example is the foreign trips schools organise in Nigeria ; these trips cost an arm and a leg. The cost that is usually charged for a child is equivalent to the cost for a family of four on the same type of trip. My children understand that such trips are ripoffs so they do not  hunger for them. 

7. Finally think along the long term line, will this particular purchase make any noticeable difference in your life in the long term?

Now to my question; How are you coping with consumerism?

My Dad, a father of many nations

23rd November 2013 was the day we had the final burial ceremony in honour of my father. He departed this world in June 2003. I was out of the country then, he was buried immediately. But since then we had always had an annual memorial prayer and get together in his honour. The 23rd November event was the grand finale. At the venue of the party,  I looked around me and went down memory lane. I could not help missing him.

My dad, he was different things to different people. To my mum, he was a brother, (she even used to call him 'broda' before they started having children, she could not call him by name) he was a mentor, a dependable ally in business and out of it. He brought her to Lagos although there is this joke that my mum had gone home and come back all by herself, so he was not the one who brought her. He was proud of her and not envious or intimitdated by her business prowess. He was her soulmate despite all the other wives. He was the love of her life.

My mum and dad in Mecca, 1975

I remember that one day when I was very angry at my dad, I asked mum why she married him, was it because there were no other suitors or what? My dad instead of getting angry, burst into laughter and recounted how he beat all other contenders for my mum's hand in marriage including the richest man in our community then, who already had a fleet of cars at that ime, how he won my mum's heart with a bike, and how a song was waxed by the current and most popular musician in their community then to sing his praise for that feat, they both got up and sang the song, dancing, my mum, shyly and blushing, as if she was an innocent bride( she was in her 60s then) and my dad with his eyes gleaming with pride.

Dad and Mum at Mum's house warming ceremony in 1983

He was a very stern and loving man at the same time, he was a disciplinarian but he would still feed us (about four of us aged between 4and 8)from his dish of delicacies (orisirisi) as we surround his table at meal times despite the fact that we had had our individual meals. He had a habit of always going about with brand new coins in his pocket which he would give children including us. He was my mentor, I copied him, watched what he did or rather how he did what he did and got results and put it in practice and got result too. He was fearless, he was a go-getter, he never gave up on any of his goals, he would not accept no for an answer and he did not believe there was anything that was impossible. He was an hardworking and shrewd business man. He was one of the best networkers of his time, he had his own 'oyinbos' expatriates from companies like CFAO, Mandillas, John Holt etc. They would do business together during the day and party together in the evening.

He was a good and generous son to his parents, his parents gave him the nickname,'Okan soso  kiri to  san  ju Igba omo ló' meaning a good son that is worth more  than 200 children pulled together., it was not just a pet name, he earned it. He was a loving and accommodating brother to his siblings both full and half. One of the first businesses he registered was registered in 'his name and Bros' not '...and Co' nor ....'and Sons' unlike the trend then. With all the people he met on his journey through life, it was 'live and let live' he believed that the sky was wide enough for all birds to fly without disturbing one another.

He was an extrovert, very outgoing, eager to meet new people and to make friends. There was no dull moment with him. He was a lover of sports especially wrestling and boxing. He was suspended from watching football by his doctor at one particular time because of his high blood pressure condition, because whatever he did, he did with all his might, he would play football right there in his living room whilst watching it. His handshake was very gripping, you had to be sure of yourself before shaking hands with him.

He was our father, 18 surviving children out of 22, he loved all of us together and individually for all the different traits that we have, the resemblance among us is striking even across different mothers, you would find a daughter looking more like her half sister more than her full sister. Outsiders could not really tell who our mothers were, they used to just call us by our surname. An old friend of my dad came visiting one day and met me, he asked my dad, sé omo pupa yen ló bi eleyi fun e? Meaning was it that fair girl that had this child for you? It was funny, because my mum was in her 70s then and I was in my late 20s and she was still being referred to as 'omo pupa'.

He was handsome, dashing, fashionable and clean, he had another nickname 'all white' because he made popular the wearing of native white lace attire. He was a fashion pace setter then and would also wear other nice colours and was one of the first to pioneer the wearing of 'to match' that we call monochrome nowadays.

Growing up especially after my first degree was very stormy because we had divergent opinions about the kind of friends I should keep and the kind of man I should bring home as husband material. At one point I stopped talking to him except the compulsory greetings like 'e e kaaro sir, e e kule sir, e e Kabo sir' etc. And  I missed him, I missed the jokes, the gist, on his own part he could not bear it, he would come into my room and say ' e e so' meaning hello, how are you? how are you doing in Ijebu and I would be happy and we would resume talking until another wahala cropped up.

He was a prayer warrior, he would pray from night till daybreak and continue even farther if need be especially on issues that had to do with his children. He started laying hands before Pentecostal pastors learnt the act.if I had some pains, he would pray and lay his hands on that spot and keep vigil with me till the pain would subside or till I slept off.

He was a polygamist but would not want any of his children to go that way. I remember that there was a guy pestering me and was already worming his way into my Father's heart, I just told my dad that he was married (although he was not) and my dad got very angry and asked him if he wanted to make me ' a spare tyre' or what? He did not believe in 'do or  die' marriage especially when it involved violence and always made us know we were welcome home if situation demanded it. He was therefore not one to loose a child to domestic violence except if he was kept in the dark about it.

He was a morally upright man and so not the type to go behind anybody's back to have a child outside wedlock or in secret, so since he died, we have not experienced any nasty surprise. He was not the type that would date female employees or female tenants,impregnate his wives' relatives, or fondle his wives' house helps ( this was a common occurrence in his time, house helps we're being upgraded into wives on a per dozen basis). Neither would he date his friends daughter, his daughters' friends etc. There were real life situations that happened and he did not disappoint me. 

We had a good rapport that defied the generation gap between us. I remember one time when one of our  neighbours who must have been in his late 70s then felt he was in love with me and proceeded to put it in writing to prove it, when I showed my Dad the letters he was very livid and said he was going to warn him. I told him not to, that there were other more humiliating ways to make him stop, so we then hatched our plans. Usually we would seat on our balcony in the evening and the neighbours would sit on theirs just across fom us. As soon as they are seated, I would bring out one of the letters and start reading it out loud, the neighbour would jump up and run indoors to the surprise of his wife and children, my dad and I would laugh till tears streamed down our faces. We succeeded in keeping him indoors for over a month till something else happened that we could joke about.

My dad, was not a burden, both financially and emotionally. Even at old age, when his outing was drastically reduced to about once a week, he still had a live-in driver. He also had a houseboy and so was not at the mercy of any of his wives( my mum not included because she had since withdrawn form domestic duties with the advent of the younger wives). He spent his money on good medical care, good diet and on his  general well being.

He set a standard that was almost impossible to beat for any suitor( until my husband came into my life or was I the one that came into his life?, by the way my husband is the new 'okan soso kiri' after my dad although he does not know it yet), and he would usually advise me to lower my expectations a little bit. He took my husband as his son, taught him how to shave with only water and razor and not grow bumps. For both of them, it was love at first sight. They both got on like a house on fire.

He was a lover of music and would spend any amount on a gramophone. His taste also shaped my preference in music.Popular musicians of his time like Haruna Ishola, Yusuf Olatunji, Lefty Salami, King Sunny Ade, Ebenezer Obey were all his favourites and I could sing all their songs back to back. My Dad, he was a great event planner, the perfect host at parties, he would not spare any expenses when having a party. When we had the burial party for his parents, it was Haruna Ishola that performed. So I know that he would not expect any less from us his children for his own burial party.

I looked around me and felt proud of myself, the opulence and splendor of the venue

, the array and variety of food on the menu, the buttomless supply of choice drinks, the calibre and the turn out of gorgeously dressed guests, the colorful Aso ebi, the performance of the musician all combined made the party a huge success to be talked about for a long time to come.

As we wound up the party,  I could not help musing and chuckling; from my father's  loins have emanated Nigerian citizens, British, Irish, German, American, Benin Republic, Cote D'ivoire. He was indeed a father of many nations.

Would you spy on your child?

I read somewhere on the Internet, read story here that the US busybody government had bugged the German Chancellor's mobile phone for over ten years without being detected. As usual, this set me off, I marveled at how easy it was for them to have been able to do that and get away with it for that long without being detected, who did they think they were to have done it and also wondered if as a parent I would and if I should, spy on my child or better still if my concern over my children and watching over them could be regarded as spying or just carrying out my God given responsibility towards them. 

Growing up in the early 70s in Nigeria,  life was far less complicated than what obtains now. The use of Internet in homes was almost non existent. Communication was physical and face to face or via letter writing (what we had then was "pen pals" )and not via some sophisticated gadgets like telephone or through social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tagged, Pinterest, Yahoomail, Gmail, Hotmail etc.

Never the less, some parents including mine, would still spy on their children despite the fact that there was almost "nothing" to spy on. Apart from the fact that there was no privacy for children at that time as we have it now, the  tools of communication we had then was diary keeping for our own use, letter writing, local and international (remember airmail, per avion ?) and some of us had telephone or rather our parents had telephone, land  line powered by almighty NITEL. 

If we got a letter, usually our parents would get the first access to them and we would be called to come and read it to them and even sometimes to the whole family. This makes me remember my very first love letter that I got at the age of 11 or thereabouts, after it had been "intercepted" and digested by my parents, I was told to read it which I did, red faced from embarrassment, I had to do a lot of convincing to the effect that the letter was unsolicited and that I did not see it coming. We also later found out that it was from one of my male cousins. Apparently there had been a bet among all the male cousins that they would see who I would "fall for" first among about five of them. Anyway, I was finally vindicated.

Our telephone had an extension in my Dad's room and the main line was in the living room. Anytime any of us children had a call, we had to pick it in the living room and we would usually reply in monosyllables like "yes", "no", chuckle or giggle and "bye-bye". We were allowed to pick calls depending on Dad's mood. If he was in a good enough mood you were lucky because you would be able to pick your call, if he was in one of those moods or you where not in his good books at that particular time ( which was very often),  he would either slam the phone after putting the caller through a serious interview session  or he would tell the caller never to call that line ever again and slam the phone that is, even if the caller himself had not dropped the phone in fright after hearing my Dad's voice.Now if he was in a benevolent mood, or if you had been making some suspicious moves and he felt he had enough grounds to suspect that you were up to something untoward at that particular moment he would pretend to be in a good mood and allow you pick the call in the living room and go to his room on the pretext of getting some stuff or the other, then he would pick the extension. If this happens, what would I do? I would simply tell the caller that there was something wrong with the connection and that I was going to check if the extension was properly placed, at which he would quickly drop it and come out, this could happen up to two or three times during one telephone conversation. In Dad's bid to perfect his surveillance act, he bought a padlock which he would use to lock the phone

so that no calls were made while he was out so as not to miss any action but he could not stop us from receiving calls while he was out. We children, also perfected the skill of "tapping" and although tedious and time consuming, we would tap all the numbers that made up the telephone number one by one till the last number and the call would scale through at last and we would talk as much as we wanted. After some time however Dad started locking the phone, padlock and all in his room before going out. And there was nothing we could do except force the door open and nobody, not even the bravest amongst us could dare that or maybe we thought a telephone call was not worth the wahala that would ensue.

Back to the subject under discussion, would you spy on your child? My thirteen and eleven year old have laptops because they are in secondary school, they use the Internet on almost a daily basis for their school assignments, the thirteen year old has an iPad and a phone as well. The phone is however used the way a " social drinker" takes alcohol, occasionally, during mid term breaks and longer holidays to keep in touch with her friends from School or anytime we have a separate outing. The novice that I am, I do not know how I did I'd but I was able to synch her iPad to mine so that whatever she writes on her ipad, I get a copy on my own iPad. I also set up their email accounts on my own iPad, have them put in their passwords and so get a copy of each new mail they get. 

 I am sure you are wondering if they don't resent this, so far no, and this is because I did not go behind their back to do it, I carried them along by informing them and and letting them know it was for their own good and I also worked at the impression that we both did it "together". I also let them know that they can read my emails as well if they so wish (as if they would want to read my boring emails), and they have my iPad password. In continuation of my parenting duty and responsibility I passworded safari browser on my 13 year old's iPad and downloaded a safer browser from the  Apps store. The 11 year old's  laptop was also made safer by downloading google "safe search kids" browser for her use instead of the regular browsers. From time to time I also go through their browsing history, if your child's browsing history is erased, it is a danger signal and enough reason for further actions from you.

You might want to share, do you "spy"? if so how have you been able to "spy" without "spying" or without getting caught?

In the next post, we will examine ways we can "spy" on our children without "spying"

image 1 source:http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-24690055

image 2 source:http://www.etsy.com/listing/110625066/vintage-1960s-gray-rotary-phone-with