Teenager Luck

Firstly, hello to Pinky the Flamingo and welcome, Dickhead the Unicorn. Our new inflatables. Secondly, Lulu woke up for her final Year 10 maths class yesterday. While she was doing it, she turned to us.

‘I hate my life. You’re the worst parents ever.’

Yep. Lu woke up in a bad mood. Get ready for the verbal bullets. With this teenager, sometimes we’re living the embodiment of Kevin and Perry. Or Vicky Pollard from Little Britain. In any other circumstance, it would be funny. If you filmed it at ours, it’d probably be funny too.

By all accounts, she admits it too. Yesterday, Lu quoted a meme about teenager life as we headed to the dive site at the concrete pier. ‘Having a teenager,’ she said cheerfully, ‘is the same as having a cat who you feed and then hisses at you when you try to give it affection.’

We all laughed in the dinghy. Today, we are living it. I’d just made her breakfast too. Triple decker egg and bacon sandwich. It was delicious.

The point is you can’t reason with the unreasonable. In dealing with drunks, this is rule number one. It strikes me that teenager-hood in this form is similar: a kind of drunkenness. You can’t reason with that either. The best thing is to is walk away.

On a boat, walking away is a delicate and sometimes take-three-steps-away kind of action. But that’s ok. The teenager has her own cabin. There she can go.

We are hoping Bonaire will have a gaggle of kids both girls can meet. At least one. This however, is admittedly a gamble. Because of the continuing lockdown restrictions, the majority of boat kids are heading to Grenada. Grenada is offering something of a yachtie safe haven.

This was part of Lu’s directed anger toward us this morning. Because, according to her, we’re not heading to the right place.

The thing is though, we’ve spent a hurricane season in Grenada already. We know the diving is limited there – and where it’s good in the marine parks, you need an official guide to dive with you. Means you have to pay someone every time you dive. Good luck with us. Plus, where the majority of boat kids are on the south coast, it’s mangrove-y. Diving from or near Quest is often murky.

So, we’ve decided on Bonaire instead – if they let us in of course. Hopefully they will. But the teenager situation in Bonaire is less clear. I’m feeling optimistic that on an island of twenty-thousand people dedicated to the diving world, there should be at least a few teenagers with common interests around.

Could you do me a favour, dear reader, and please cross your digits on this? Like every single one? I need teenager-based luck. This luck – like Pinky and Dickhead – is synonymous with happiness. At least they have each other. Cats who hiss. And sometimes break plates. Still our cats. And they named the inflatables.

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