Out of the mouths of teens
‘Cold Feet’ reflects what many parents now realise – that their offspring are often wiser than they are...
The Cold Feet crew arrived back on our screens this week as familiar as ever, just older and… wiser?
Well, not quite. Fiftysomething Adam was busy dying his hair and lusting after a twentysomething waitress in his local coffee shop (who he didn’t realise was his 17-yearold son Matthew’s new girlfriend). Meanwhile, David was busy berating his son Josh for dropping out of university. “Josh is a Marsden,” he said, arms folded. “We don’t quit!”
But Josh was having none of it: “You might be content trying to fill your father’s shoes, but I’m not. I don’t want to follow in your footsteps. I want to live my own life.”
Meanwhile, over at Adam’s, his son was lecturing him on running after women half his age, with the line every parent dreads: “You’re embarrassing, Dad. You’re just sad.”
By the end of the episode, it was clear it’s the teenagers who are shaping up to be the smart ones in this series, unwittingly teaching their misguided parents a thing or two about life. Here, seven writers and broadcasters reveal how their own teenagers have taught them some cold, hard truths…
‘She showed me how much damage I was doing’ Richard Madeley, broadcaster, columnist and father of two
When she was younger, our daughter Chloe rode to her ageing dad’s rescue in the nick of time. Chloe’s now a successful nutritionist and fitness expert (three bestselling books to her name, I’m proud to say), and as I move into my sixties, she’s been fantastic at oh-so-subtly steering me away from bad habits, mostly dietary. Out with the bacon sarnies, sliced white bread, processed meats; in with wholemeal, nuts, tons of fruit and lashings of olive oil. I’m convinced it’s all given me the mindset to stop drinking, too (three months and counting). So sorry, folks, but thanks to Chloe, you may be stuck with me for a while longer…
‘My daughter taught me how to take a compliment’ Judith Woods, columnist and mother of two
My 16-year-old daughter has taught me a life skill I never knew I needed: the ability to take a compliment with gratitude and grace. Whenever someone admires her eyelashes, her trainers, her vintage baby-blue YSL sweater or any of the other of things so pressingly important to teenage girls, she smiles and simply says: “Thank you.”
She doesn’t squirm with embarrassment and shriek: “Oh, I look terrible! And fat! This old thing? Look at the bags under my eyes – and they’re not even Louis Vuitton!”
The last time I did that, she sternly raised her palm and told me to stop. The whole gauche self-effacement routine isn’t modest, it’s rude, she told me.
A compliment is a tiny gift. Accept it and treasure it for a moment. Or forever, if you want.
But don’t throw it away like it doesn’t matter; someone chose to give it to you.
Acknowledge the sentiment with serenity; it completes the virtual circle.
Such wisdom from one so young. Did I mention she has lovely trainers?
‘My eldest taught me the importance of being true to yourself ’ Marianne Jones, editor of Stella and mother of two boys
If I had a pound for every time someone asked if my 18-year-old son was doing his job at our local M&S to earn extra cash for university, I’d be as rich as Holly Willoughby.
For the fact is my boy has decided that while it may be right for the other 99 per cent of teens in our aspirational Kent town, higher education isn’t for him. So the disbelief and incomprehension that flickered across David’s face when his son announced he’d quit university in Monday’s Cold Feet, was familiar.
My husband and I are university educated and it was a given that our two sons would follow that path. Even our eldest’s very late diagnosis of dyslexia, which finally explained his educational struggle, wasn’t enough to thwart our fantasy of him somehow turning things around. It took our gorgeous, bright, funny square peg to tell us to stop hammering him into a round hole.
So last year he dropped his useless media college course and got himself a summer job, which has happily just turned into a full-time menswear role. He is now a confident, happy and independent lad, doing his own thing, his own way. He even pays us rent (gasp!) and is saving for an Isa. The lesson he’s taught me? To let him be utterly himself – as we all should be. And I couldn’t be prouder.
‘It took our bright, funny square peg to tell us to stop pushing him into a round hole’
‘My son made me realise I’d lost my nerve’ James Brown, writer and father of two sons
I’ve been inspired by my 17-yearold son’s sense of adventure and just getting out there and on with finding places. When we arrived in Tokyo after 17 hours’ travelling recently, I only had bed in mind. But as I climbed in, he was already telling me he’d be back later, the door opened, closed and he was gone. The enthusiasm just to get out and see where we were was the exact opposite to how I felt. He didn’t know anyone, he just had his phone and a sense of curiosity. He couldn’t wait.
When I was 18, I went off to Berlin with virtually no cash, a shoulder bag, no phone numbers and just a concert venue where a band I knew were playing. I can’t quite believe I did that now, but my son’s sense of adventure has brought it all back.
Last year he travelled back from Majorca via Barcelona on trains with his mate, then seven of them went to Amsterdam. He isn’t restricted by the fear you get when you get older and have children. I love that. It’s changed the way I travel. ‘She taught me about loss’ Justin Webb, Radio 4 Today presenter and father of two
We are in a hotel in San Francisco and I am cold with fear. My daughter Clara – not yet a teenager – has lost her soft toy, called Donkey. I burst into the hotel laundry screaming “Burro Azul” at bemused Mexican assistants. And suddenly there he is.
Years later, the same scene in Switzerland – Donkey has to be returned in the post. The whole family celebrates. And Donkey stays with Clara into her teens – not cuddled so often but still there in her room, still part of life. Until one day he got thrown out by mistake.
There is enormous sadness. That had to be managed. But here is the lesson: the sadness was mine. And the manager was Clara, now a teenager. How silly we parents can be when we puff ourselves up and prepare to talk to our kids about loss, but actually they are there first.
I had a miserable childhood and have always been desperate – way too desperate – that for my children nothing goes wrong. But, of course, it must. And being well-adjusted humans, unlike their father, they have been perfectly able to cope. My daughter set me free. She no longer has Donkey, but she has a boyfriend and a cheery smile. And a father who has learnt a valuable life lesson. ‘My daughter taught me about the changing nature of gender’
Toby Young, writer and father of four
My daughter, when she was 13, sat down the entire family and asked us all to identify ourselves with the use of a graph she’d drawn. The Y axis had “straight” at the top and “gay” at the bottom, while the X axis had “cis” on the right-hand side and “noncis” on the left (meaning does your gender identity coincide with your chromosomal sex or is it at odds with it)? So there were four quadrants: straight-cis, straight-non-cis, gay-cis and gay-non-cis.
I hadn’t thought about the issue quite like this before – that sexual orientation and gender identity can be disentangled, and you could be, say, a chromosomal male who identifies as female and, at the same time, “straight” because you’re attracted to members of the same chromosomal sex, rather than the opposite sex. I have to say, my wife and I had difficulty getting our heads around this at first and I’m not sure our youngest, then eight, fully grasped what it was our daughter was asking. I thought she might be about to come out and had chosen this device as a way of telling us, although come out as what exactly, I wasn’t sure.
In the end, we all put ourselves in the straight-cis box, including her. I’m sure I’m not the only middle-aged dad who’s been introduced to this subject matter by their teenage child. It’s a big issue for their generation.
‘He taught me not to despair’ Sali Hughes, writer, author, broadcaster, event host, consultant and mother of two boys
I’ve learnt many things from my eldest, almost 14-year-old, son. How to perform the floss, how to deploy the words “hench” and “roadman” (but also why I probably shouldn’t), how it is entirely possible to spend one hour in the shower and still emerge with hair smelling of dog. But most of all, he’s taught me to be optimistic again.
Marv is a thinker and a worrier. He watches the news and yet somehow, he broadly thinks everything “will be fine”. His Year 9 friends are similarly engaged and share his optimism. Between Xbox games and relentless
Big Bang Theory marathons, I hear them – boys and girls – talk about one another, their parents, the wider world, even their teachers, with more compassion than we did in my day. They’re kind, they listen to one another’s problems and hug when they greet. I feel we’ll be handing over the country to a generation of kids who will better look after it.
I suppose my teen and his pals have taught me to stop despairing.