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Compromise Is Not An Art

Compromise Is Not An Art

It's a punishment

Rosemary Mac Cabe's avatar
Rosemary Mac Cabe
Jan 24, 2024
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Compromise Is Not An Art
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basically me, 10 mins after my parents arrive | photo by Hans Reniers on Unsplash

My parents are staying with me for the next five days, having tired of my sister’s endless demands and the deafening screams of her children. (Just kidding: I think they feel as though they haven’t spent enough time with me during this latest trip, and have suddenly realised they’re going home to Ireland in a little over two weeks.)

This is great news: I love my parents! But also, it’s great to have another adult (or two) in the house with me and Atlas. It means he doesn’t bawl crying when I go to the bathroom, and I can go upstairs to put the washing in the dryer without taking him with me, or waiting for him to be down for his nap.

My Mum is a great one for having the kettle boiled at all times, and Dad’s already planning on making apple muffins. “Make them tomorrow,” I told him, when he looked a little like he might be considering getting up some time in the next hour. “Today is Indian day.”

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