“You kno seh one hand cyan clap.”
“Really ma?!”
Trying to figure out how to clap with one hand.
I looked ridiculous.
Caribbean parents are good at making you look ridiculous. Professionals, actually. They have PhD’s in Ridicule and Rhetoric. You learn at a young age that you don’t know what you’re talking about. Nope. Never. No amount ah schoolin’ can prepare you to deal with their experiential knowledge. Their years of living in the islands. Them being themselves. Yeah, no competition.
Like the many times I didn’t clean my room. Don’ judge me. I wasn’t about that life growing up. Never saw the point of folding clothes only to unfold them, making a bed only to mess it up when I slept in it. every. night. I, low key, still don’t make my bed. Buh doh tell me mummy.
“Claytia, you clean up ya room already?”
Lying, “Yes mummy, I doin’ it now!”
I could hear her making her way to my room. She would come and check. Always. So I knew I had about 5 seconds, tops, to hop up from whatever I was doing, and pretend to be doing something, cleaning something.
Opening my door, “Eh eh?! You ain’ move nuttin’ yet!”
“Look mummy I–“
“Doh answer me back wen I talkin’ to you.”
And that’s when you go silent. Because nothing that you could possibly say can help you in this situation. You afi know how ta keep quiet. Nuh chat back. Especially because there’s no battle, ‘cuz you cyah fight. You doh ‘ave a weapon. Yuh ‘ear wah mi ah seh? *Schuuupppsss!*
Moral of the story: Not every question requires an answer. Hmm.. and you know what? I never did figure out how to clap with one hand…
Source:: Caribbean Parents
