Snowflakes? Our kids are so flakey, they’re powder.

Screenshot 2019-02-02 at 13.32.10
Watch out, they’re everywhere.                                          Original photo Jens JohnssonPexels

The snowflake generation – they’re a nightmare, aren’t they? Poor work ethic, whiney, vlogging ne’er do wells? All about the eyebrows and pouts. Ridiculous. How they’ll cope in the post Brexit years, we can only imagine. Poor things. But the snowflakes, they’ve got nothing on the next generation.

Our kids are the next level of flakiness. Our kids chant “Hey guys!” at every opportunity, while live-blogging each fascinating moment of their lives. “Hey guys, I just had a wee and now I’m off to get my shoes on to go to school. Hey guys! Here I am putting my shoes on. Hey guys, now I’ve got my shoes on… let’s go”. *Live blogs self walking down the street.* And now it’s all about the cheekbones. Eyebrows are so Snowflake Generation. These are not snowflakes, these guys are the ultimate collection of snowflakes. They are the deep, deep powder. They are off-piste and they are all over the place.

If you’re a skier you’ll know that the powder is the good stuff. But it takes a certain skill to ride it. You can’t just plough on in there. Powder makes its own rules. It makes fools out of the over-confident. It brings down the fast-paced, fun-loving skiers.

And so, our little powder flakes, they bring us down. Their superb flakiness from all angles engulfs us and throws us aside. Consistent only in their ability to change direction at whim, they flit their way through life, exhausting those of us who (like every generation before us) wishes they’d just stick at something.

I know you think I’m being dramatic. I’m not. I can give you years of examples. Dance classes? Yes, they really wanted dance lessons. Twice a week at the height of it! And they had to have all the kit, of course. Expensive shoes (two sets), the dresses, the wigs, the earrings, spray tan. But then, one day, they decided that they didn’t like the competitions anymore. And that was the end of that.

Then there was the flute. And the violins (one pink and two standard wooden) and, my favourite of all: the double bass. Three hours across the home counties to collect that mountain of wood, plus the joy of dragging it to school seems to have now upset the powder child. She doesn’t want to play it anymore. Never did apparently. Apparently, I “took it upon myself to go and get one”. The Great Flakey Powder Child has presumably forgotten that she came with me to get it, happily learned YouTube versions of chart songs on it and felt quite the cool kid. But now, she really, really doesn’t want to play it anymore. And that is the end of that.

Let’s not forget the gym sessions that everyone wanted. They wanted to be fit. They wanted to be picked for every school sports team, so gym sessions were necessary. Strong is the new cool etc. That was until, of course, they didn’t want to be that kind of cool anymore. And so that was the end of that.

One of my personal favourites of the deep powder flakiness series, was swimming club. I hate swimming, but you may know I married into a fish dynasty, where to live is to swim. And yet here, even amongst the safety of the Fish People, they managed optimum flakiness. (Should that be scaliness? Groan. Sorry). One evening, after the customary 30 mins drive and just too much complaining, “I’ve forgotten my goggles/pants/swim hat/water bottle”, I snapped. I banned them from swimming classes. And that was the end of that.

Along with dancing, flute, swimming et al, so went the ballet lessons, drama club, hip hop club, orchestra, string group, the steel pan band, youth club, cheerleading classes and the church choir. They earned good wages from singing at weddings. But, sadly, even real, hard cash in tiny brown envelopes couldn’t hold back their flakiness. The powder is deep.

So what next for these children of the white stuff? What will they stick to, these poor powder kids?  Currently we enjoy ferrying them to gymnastics and cadets. Cadets?! The exact opposite of everything a powder kid wants, surely? Or, is the extreme routine exactly what they need? That and boarding school, perhaps?

The proof will be measured in Remembrance Day parades. Indeed, so far this winter, the snow has not yet fallen on the latest hobbies of the powder children.

Meanwhile, I’ve created a fun new club for parents. It’s found at: – where the shortest hobby wins.

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