The Utterly Perfect Mummy

It was many years ago, in the quiet Yorkshire hamlet where my husbands family lived, that I first found myself in a heated discussion with my fatherinlaw, Edward, after only a few hours stay. I had arrived with my husbands son, little Tommy, and kept a wary eye on Eleanor, my motherinlaw.

Edward, we need to speak seriously, I began, tightening my grip on the old wooden fence. Forgive me, but I didnt pull your son out of the village for nothing. I turned him from a pretentious city boy into someone who can actually work the land. And now you seem intent on turning my grandsonmy dear Tommyinto a rustic simpleton. I wont allow that!

Whats happened, Emily? Eleanor asked, her voice trembling. Why are you saying this?

Because after he spent the whole summer here with you, Tommy isnt the same lad he was before, I replied, my tone sharp. Do you understand?

Not at all. What do you mean was before? Hes only eight! Eleanor protested.

Yes, eight, I repeated, herding my words into a stricter cadence. But after your village, hes turned into some sort of roughandtumble lad, and hes picked up bad habits!

Bad habits? Emily, what on earth are you talking about? Edward stared at me, his eyes wide with alarm. Has he started smoking?

Smoking has nothing to do with it, Father! I snapped. He certainly doesnt smoke.

So he doesnt drink, then What kind of bad habits are you referring to? Edward muttered, bewildered.

The sort of countryfolk habits, I said. He now calls cars horses! Can you imagine? Hell see a sleek new motor and shout down the lane, Mum, Dad, look at that beautiful horse whizzing past! Its an awful word, and it makes my blood run cold.

Edward merely chuckled, clenching his fist, while Eleanor glowered at him.

Those are your words, Edward, Eleanor murmured apologetically to me. Dont worry, dear. Horse isnt a curse; it can even be endearing. Its not a mare, just a little horse.

Mother, how can you say that? I flared again. Is that how a city boy should speak? I wouldnt be surprised if hes started swearing as well. After his summer here, his vocabulary is riddled with strange expressions that frighten me. He now talks to his classmates like, Ill grab you by the crankshaft! or Youll get a splitsecond in the differential. And what on earth does Ill spin the crank on the flywheel even mean? It makes my hair stand on end. Just last week he wrote an essay saying he wants to be a tractor driver. Did you, Father, plant that ambition in his head?

Me? Edward forced a smile, trying to hide his amusement behind an air of contrition. No, Emily, it wasnt me. Hes simply been watching the farm machines and let his imagination run a mile. Hes still a city lad at heart. Dont fret. He once told his grandma he dreams of becoming a financier, perhaps even the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Thats what we hope forhim to be a financier, I sighed. But youll be pleased to hear what he did recently.

What? Eleanor leaned in, curious.

We gave him a pocketmoney allowance, as a future financier should have, and told him he could buy himself a birthday present. He could spend it on anything he liked. Guess what he bought?

What? Edward asked, his eyebrows raising.

He bought a set of chainschainsaw chains, I think. He claimed your chains, Father, have become so dull you cant sharpen them any more, and that next year he and I will head into the woods with those saws to cut firewood for the bathhouse. Is that true?

My goodness, Eleanor breathed, shaking her head. The boys imagination knows no bounds.

Yes, Edward replied, extending his hand. So instead of a present, he decided to help me. Emily, you need not worry. Well reimburse you for those chainsaws down to the last penny. Just tell us how much he spent.

Thats not about the money! I shouted. Its about principle. My boy should not be thinking of firewood for a bathhouse, nor of horses and tractors, but of his studies. He should aim to become a topclass scholar and head straight to university.

Youre right, Emily, Eleanor said, smiling. Next summer well bring the finest books from the village reading roommathematics, English, all the lotand sit with Tommy under the old apple tree, reading till the stars come out. Well mould him into a brilliant student.

Exactly, Edward agreed. Just bring him over, and well turn him into the smartest child in the county. Hell outwit any local farmer with his knowledge. He can recite his multiplication tables as quickly as a snap.

And he talks so smoothly, Eleanor added, chuckling. He doesnt just speak; he sings. All the village grandmothers are smitten with him. They listen, mouths open in awe, and then tell us, Emily, you truly are a proper mother.

Is that so? I asked, halfskeptical. In what way am I proper?

By bringing him to the countryside each summer, Eleanor replied. A child his age should eat only the freshest, natural food, breathe pure country air, and bathe in the clear rivernot some artificial pool full of chlorine. Did he tell you he learned to swim almost like a fish?

Yes, he mentioned it, I nodded, finally allowing a small smile.

And he rides his bicycle here without fearing a lorry turning the corner, doesnt fear the bees or the dogs, and his allergies have all but vanished.

Thats true, I conceded. We hardly need to visit the clinic any more.

In a year, you and Tommy will forget the word almost altogether, Edward said. So, Emily, fear not that well spoil him. On the contrary, hell gain so much health here that it will last him a lifetime. After all, a childs foremost need is sound healthboth body and spirit.

Well, then I sighed, finally yielding. Youve eased my mind a little.

When Emily left, Eleanor turned to her husband with a frown. Do you think theyll bring Tommy back next summer?

Theyll have to, Edward answered uncertainly. Its a good thing Natalie didnt peek into the shed, or she wouldve seen the tractor Im assembling for Tommy and lost her mind. But thats all right. Everything will be fine. Hell still remember that word horse, just as I did as a lad, when my grandfathers sayings stuck to me like ivy.