Tales of hidden depths, grumpiness, and hope from kids in lockdown

Pat Fitzpatrick with his daughter, Freda, and son, Joe, at their home in Turners Cross, Cork. Picture: Dan Linehan

The Irish Examiner Growing up in Lockdown survey asked children and young people to talk about their lives during the pandemic.   

I assumed there would be no surprises during a mini-interview with my kids, based around the online survey in the Irish Examiner. We’ve been living in each other’s shoes for over a year — there can’t be any secrets in our house any more, can there?

Yes, there can. I asked them if I’ve changed over the last 12 months; they let me know that I’m grumpier and my beard had turned white. Thanks.

The grumpy thing emerged during our chat about home-schooling. 

As my daughter put it, “homeschooling was a big stress. It was lots of screaming and shouting, because you’re not at school and with your friends.”

I don’t remember that much screaming and shouting, but let’s just say she’s better suited to learning in a classroom environment and her dad lacks the skill-set to cajole her into doing her sums.

Her brother didn’t notice much of a difference. He felt on balance that homeschooling is “the same” as being in the classroom, because “homeschooling is shorter, but you have no lunch break in homeschooling”. He likes his food.

He also likes being at home with his family. His sister said that she “really missed her friends, A LOT”.

When I asked him if he missed his friends, he replied “kind of”. It’s not that he’s antisocial — he has loads of buds in his class — it’s more that he doesn’t need other people to give him energy. His sister, and father for that matter, need a flow of other people to keep us going.

That said, I wouldn’t say my son is strongly attached to homeschooling. When I asked him if he’d like to go back to homeschooling after the summer holidays, he said “come on, I want no-schooling”.

He’s seven, I’d be worried if he felt differently.

In fairness to him, he’s missed out on two birthday parties thanks to the virus, which can’t be easy for someone who loves getting presents. “Is it just me or has coronavirus been here for 200 years?” he says, and it must feel like that to him.

I asked them what they’d like to do when lockdown ends.

“I want to go on holidays,” said my daughter.

“Where?” I asked.

“Portugal.”

“You’ve never been to Portugal.”

“My friend at school was there, she said it’s an amazing place,” she answered, dying to try out some new things after a year at home.

I asked them if all the talk of coronavirus made them afraid. “I was afraid that everyone was going to die and I’d be last person on Earth,” replied my seven year old. 

This was another thing I didn’t know until we sat down for the chat.

What activities did they miss?

“Mostly, I miss drama,” replied my daughter, which makes sense. Any time I drop her over to her drama classes, it’s clear that these people are her tribe.

One of the things I hate about lockdown is having to eat pretty much every single meal at home. If nothing else, I feel like I’m manacled to the dishwasher.

When the kids talk about the two restaurants they want to visit in Cork city when lockdown is over — Idaho Cafe and Nandos (if he can bring his Nintendo) — it’s clear they’ve also been drool-dreaming about getting the chance to eat out again.

I ask them what they’d say to the coronavirus if it was sitting next to them on the couch. My daughter asks if she’s allowed to used the F-word. I say just this once. (Or twice.) She turns to the imaginary virus and tells it to F-off. Her brother does the same and it makes us all a feel a bit better.

In the end, my daughter is optimistic. “The vaccine is out now and that’s going to change everything,” she tells me emphatically.

She’s right, it will.

We were lucky during this pandemic. Lucky that nobody close to us got sick or died, lucky that we were able to mould our work life to cope with home-schooling, lucky that our biggest problem is missing a holiday in France. Luckiest of all, our kids seem pretty much unscathed by the whole thing. They’ll be fine.

Read Pat Fitzpatrick’s Learner Dad every Friday in Feelgood