Fewer Books and Hairy Legs

Long car journeys in our household are often fraught with boredom and restlessness due to travel sickness. It must be in the family genes because even the slightest scan of a shopping list or glimpse of a phone screen results in us hanging our heads over the side of the open window, desperately sucking on a mint Tic-tac. However, as a result of this inability to do anything other than listen to the radio or talk, occasionally (when the children are not arguing) we can have some quite meaningful conversations. One such conversation, during a trip to Sheffield, happened a few days ago. It went something like this.

Son: Oh, I wish I could use my Nintendo Switch, I’m bored.

Me: You’ll only get sick but don’t worry, tomorrow will offer lots of opportunities.

Son: (Sigh) I want to play now.

Me: Wow! What would you do if we were Amish? Online gaming is strictly prohibited.

Son: Amish?

Me: Yes, they’re a group of people, dedicated to God, who live simply without all the mod cons we have today.

Son: What, no technology at all? Not even ipads or TV?

Me: That’s right. No Netflix or YouTube. They’re very careful not to get too tangled up with the outside world. They don’t even drive cars.

Son: No cars? Do they walk everywhere? That’s just stupid!

Me: They use horses and carriages. (I’m on a roll now, making my point) The men work out in the fields, the women look after the home and the garden and the children all help. (Wistfully) Sometimes, I think I would quite enjoy that; the children helping around the house. 

Son (scornfully): You? Stuck in the house doing housework and gardening? I don’t think so!

Me: Who do you think does our housework and gardening?

Son (thoughtfully) Oh, I s’pose.

Me: There’s no materialism, no distractions. Everyone wears the same simple clothing, no expensive haircuts, no make-up, no jewellery.

Son: Really?

Me: The men grow long beards, no shaving, no worrying about your appearance at all. Just family, simple hard work, good food, and God. I think I’d love that way of life. 

Son: (exasperated) You’d never do it, mum. No make-up? No going to the hairdressers? I bet you wouldn’t even be allowed to shave your legs!

Me: Oh. I didn’t think of that. Hairy legs could be a problem but I think I’d probably manage.

Son: (Suddenly triumphant) What about all your books? You wouldn’t be allowed to have so many, I bet!

Me: Hmm. I’m sure the Amish are allowed to read books.

Son: But not that many! You have loads.

Me: (starting to feel a little uncomfortable) Well, perhaps I wouldn’t be able to keep as many…I could read them… and… then pass them on. 

Son: (becoming more and more confident as he unravels his argument) And don’t forget, there’s no internet so you wouldn’t be able to order them off Amazon and every time you want to buy a book you’d have to hitch up the horse and cart to go into town and anyway, town would probably be too far away and, if you’re just doing housework and gardening, and dad’s in the fields planting crops for us to eat, where will you get the money to pay for the books?

Me: Um. 

Son: And the library would be no good because everything is done online and you’d need an electronic library card which you wouldn’t be able to use and…

I feel the argument has got a little skewed and I can’t quite catch up with my son’s rapid and passionate reasoning. He has an argument for everything, and I casually wonder if he will become a lawyer later in life. But, as my overloaded brain attempts to catch up with his quick-fire responses, I shake my head with reluctance. He does have a point. I mean, the book-buying could prove to be a problem, and, I must admit, the whole idea of hairy legs is rather uncomfortable. 

No, upon further thought, fewer books and hairy legs do not sit well with me, at all.