Kimmy rushes into the kitchen at 3.40pm; her mother knew this because she glanced at the clock on the cooker. The eight old daughter of a professional artist was eager to show the fruits of her labours.
"Look! I did this for you" she handed Mum a large sheet of paper still damp in parts. It was a watercolour painting. Mother looked and thought for a moment.
"It's a little naive. Where's the form, the balance, the structure? Sorry. I just don't see the passion or feel you're trying to say anything through this work. The house is boxy yet is not cubist, the animal is Dali-esque in a very simplistic way." Kimmy looks at her painting, shrugs her shoulders and proceeds to use a magnet to stick it to the door of the fridge. "Honey" asks Mum, "would you like me to make you something to eat?"
"Good grief woman NO! Your cooking sucks!" shouts Kimmy over her shoulder as she goes into the sitting room to watch TV. She doesn't notice her mother's knees buckle as she burst into tears.
Grown ups aren't resilient and are seldom honest. To get ahead and to survive BE 8.
