Enid Blyton made me lie. At least that’s what I used to think. That was the age when, forget about knowing what it is, I didn’t even know how to spell technology. Even books were not freely available as it is today. We had to wait eagerly for that one day a month, when books would be issued from the school library. Enid Blyton was the only choice available to kids our age.
Growing up with four younger siblings, I was pretty sure that some royal family somewhere had lost their child who appeared mysteriously at my parents’ doorstep. And the sweet souls that they were, adopted me and were bringing me up as their first born. Waiting for my ‘real’ parents to come in search, one particular book fell into my hands. The name is long forgotten, it must have been one of the ‘Adventurous Four’ series where this young prince gets lost, the kids rescue him, the king flies down in a plane of gold or something of that sort, and lo and behold, my alternate identity was born.
Parentous is a meeting place for all who are interested in sharing their thoughts, experiences and opinions on anything and everything related to kids, parents and family. Whether you are a parent or not doesn’t matter. Articles on varied topics are posted every day, contributed by selected writers. You can find my posts there twice a month