Most parenting books have a few good ideas, which they drag out for chapters and chapters. You can’t be bothered to read all that, so you just feel guilty. In one page, I’ll say everything I’ve learned about parenting…
- As far as possible, don’t leave the house. Make sure you’ve got some paints, a few books, and a decent set of bricks. You’ll need little else, except imagination. Imagination, and lots of sellotape.
- Have a schedule. If a child is crying, it’s usually because they’re hungry, or tired, or trying to get a lolly. Yes, children are cheeky mavericks; they are also fierce reactionaries who expect tea at 4 30, or they will shout.
- Don’t serve snacks. Serve them broccoli, let them put butter on it, and tell them they’re dinosaurs who love chomping the juicy green trees. There is no child on earth who will eat a vegetable, once they’ve seen a biscuit.
- Turn off the TV or you’ll sap their vitality. And don’t watch yourself. Go to bed early, and read your bedtime stories (Kerouac for the man; for the lady, the Crocus catalogue). After awhile you may notice there is someone in bed beside you. You can touch them. You can pretend you’re Gustav Klimt, pressing Anna Mahler against the wall. Say to them: “There is only one thing for it: complete physical union.”
- Don’t pay much attention when kids are crying, or you’re encouraging them to cry. Pay attention when they’re playing well. Be positive. But don’t just praise, participate. And don’t make suggestions; assume they’ve ideas of their own. Agree to all of them. Soon, you’ll be wearing pants on your head, you’ll be pouring tea for the dollies. This is time well spent.
- Be cool. Yes. OK. At some point you’ll regress into your own parents. You’ll slam doors and start swearing. That’s not good, but forgive yourself. You’re not your father. This is a chance to prove it. Try your best. That’s enough.
- When they’re fractious, take control. Show them you know why they are upset, then move deftly to a distraction. Grab their attention by saying: “Have I ever told you about the time Granny’s teeth fell out, right into the toilet? I’ll draw you a diagram.”
- But don’t plan too many activities. Eke out the ones you’re doing. The slower it takes to arrive, the more you will see on the way. Children are like Victorian gentlemen scientists. They collect leaves. They peer curiously at raindrops. Your job is to copy them.
- Leave them alone as often as possible, or they’ll depend on you for entertainment. Really, it should be the other way round. Your children won’t be young for long. Enjoy them. Admire them. They have much to teach you.
Hang on. My wife wants to join in. Behold her first contribution.
The Mum Rules…

- Don’t try to recreate your own childhood, but you can steal some of the best bits. When I picture my childhood I think of sand dunes, and wellies, and crabbing in Norfolk. But my own children hate crabs. They have to be bribed onto a boat by promises of cornettos.
- Let them get bored. The most fun often emerges after the words “I’m bored” have been uttered.
- Break some rules, even your own at times. Staying up late is much for fun if its “WAY past your bedtime”.
- Do things for their own sake. Learning an instrument or joining the gymnastics team is about pleasure not a certificate. Read Oliver James’ Affluenza if you find yourself fantasizing about your child as Prime Minister/Kiera Knightly/Jonathon Cope.
- Be happy yourself, but remember that no one can be happy all the time, and nothing matters too much. You may think you have scarred your child for life by forgetting their packed lunch, but you’re giving them practice at coping with life’s challenges (albeit a sandwich related one).
- Don’t let Dad have all the fun. If you find yourself washing up, too often, while he plays swingball, it’s time to hand over the rubber gloves.
xx
What would your rules be?
I just got an interesting Dad Rules from another Dad putting a forcefully male viewpoint on the subject. Obviously I can’t condone many of his views, but I can laugh at them. And maybe it’ll inspire some Mum Rules, from mums who wish to counter.



December 8th, 2008 at 4:45 pm
Marcus Boothby-Lund Says:
Rule one. Don’t do nappies. Ever. From the age of 0-18 months make it
your duty to go to the pub every night after work. Your wife will lose
all respect for you if you start sticking your fingers in poo. Get a
bit drunk instead. Your relationship will blossom.
Rule two. If you are left alone with a fully loaded baby, be aware
that inserting a cork does not stem the flow of anything but in fact
significantly adds to the already impressive projectile armoury.
Rule three. The volume of a child’s cries at nighttime are
dramatically increased by impending dawn and can be dramatically
reduced by the simple introduction of a pillow over the head. Whether
you apply the pillow to your own head or that of the child, is
entirely up to you.
Rule four. Sawdust, wallpaper paste or dust can be used to bulk out
baby food and keep the infant quiet for longer. It all tastes horrible
and the baby will bawl its eyes out regardless, so there’s no real
harm done. Also, gin in orange squash is a cheap alternative to a
babysitter.
Rule five. For health reasons, do not be tempted to sneak a quick gulp
of the baby’s food at night, not even if it’s in a bottle.
Rule six. Always dress your boy in pink and your girl in blue. Apart
from helping to break down gender stereotypes, being different will
help them to develop a strong sense of self preservation. After all,
John Wayne was called Marion and Stevie Nicks was called Steven. And
just look at Marilyn Manson.
Rule seven. Don’t put your daughter on the stage or send your son off to sea.
Rule eight. When they get a bit older, it would be good to play sport
with your kids, as long as they’re good at sport. If they’re not, just
try and make sure they don’t get into anything poncey, like art or
music. Kids who aren’t good at sport will probably get fat, but fat
people are jolly unlike tortured artists/ballerinas/Kurt Cobain etc.