Charlotte Philby's parental leave: 'Did you like Bambi,' I ask my daughter. 'I liked the fighting...'
A mother's weekly dispatch from the pre-school frontline
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference."And that is an assassin," I hear my husband say as I enter the living room, where he and the four-year-old are curled in front of the computer staring at a page of different Ninjas, while the toddler repeatedly slams a broken buggy into the wall.
"What are we doing today?" our daughter asks, trailing after me as I slam the laptop and retreat to the kitchen. "Today," I say, "we are going to watch Bambi. No more Spider-Man, no more Thundercats. You and I are going to sit down and watch a proper film, OK?"
It's not that I don't appreciate having a daughter who is more taken by Ninja Turtles than Frozen. But I do worry about the mental impact of constant superhero warfare.
Ten minutes into Bambi, all is going well. So well that when my phone rings, I press 'Answer' and slip quietly into the next room. Twenty minutes later, I remember with horror the notorious Bambi's-mummy-dying scene and run back into the living room where my daughter is flicking casually through a comic.
"What happened?" I ask, looking for signs of trauma. "I turned it off because it was too long." Oh, I say. "Well, did you like it?" It was fine, she nods. "Any bit in particular?" She thinks for a minute: "I liked the fighting." I frown: "Fighting?" She laughs. "You know, there was a good reindeer and a naughty reindeer and they were fighting but I couldn't see their faces so I don't know who won. But I think it's the naughty reindeer, isn't it? 'Cause he's really cool."
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments