Politics and Penny-Pinching

The girls are like chubby, silver-spoon, ultra-absorbent sponges. They soak up every right-wing tidbit their Dad throws at them and regurgitate it with the special enthusiasm reserved for the under ten. I spend a lot of time gently explaining that a person's political/moral/religious beliefs are personal, and when they differ from your own it doesn't mean you can treat them any differently. Political correctness is difficult when what I want to say goes along the lines of 'You're both ridiculously privileged and I have mild rage about it and your Dad is about as rational as an irritated German Shepherd on heat and if you don't stop eating packets of crisps you'll have heart disease by the time you're thirty.'

Earlier this week, they cornered me in the kitchen. 'Who did you vote for?' asked K.

'Local or Federal?'. Blank looks.

'Tony Abbott or Julia Gillard!'

'Labor. Julia Gillard.'

They reacted like I'd told them I'd eaten a newborn kitten, fried with eggs, for breakfast. 'No!' said K. 'The Red Devil! She's evil! Please let's pretend that you voted for Tony Abbott!'.

Yes. And I'll pretend that there aren't two stuffed yak heads peering down on us from the kitchen walls, and that it was the tooth fairy who puts fifty dollars under your pillow when you lose a molar. At fifty dollars a tooth, I'd be yanking them out with pliers.

Yesterday Dad told me that as I was doing such an efficient job of keeping the manor clean, I wouldn't be needed tomorrow. Then he told me that money was short because of god-damned Labor and the election it meant that people were watching their pockets. So rather than have me come and cook for the children, he'd just take them to Matteo's for dinner.

At $35-ish per main, I can see how this would be a pragmatic choice.