Mother embarrassed after son calls house help 'mama' at family meeting

It is the August holidays and some kids have gone to visit their grandparents in the village.

Those in the village have gone to visit their relatives in the city. My nephew is one of them. He wakes up at 7.00am and wakes everyone up to make breakfast.

By 8.00am he is already peeping through the window to see whether the weather is fit for play, minutes later, he is outside playing with his toys and eating dirt.

He really wants to go back to the village. His city counterparts sleep until around 10 am and have breakfast for two hours.

They then settle in front of the 55-inch TV and play video games until 4 pm. Their older siblings rush back to their rooms and stay on their phones, making good use of unlimited Wi-Fi.

They then take out their bikes but lack space to exercise their cycling skills because the play area doubles up as parking.

The caretaker forbids any playing at the play area lest they scratch some expensive machines (read cars). They ride for one hour before the ‘house managers’ call them back into the house because it is getting cold.

They are cleaned and sterilized with medicated soap because bicycle handles have germs and bacteria. They are never exposed to conditions that help them develop resistance.

That is why our Sh250,000 insurance outpatient cover is usually over in the first five months after renewal. They then stick their faces out of the windows at every car hoot hoping that their mummy or daddy coming from work.

This is the concrete jungle that we raise our children to. They only know the maid. My friend had to resign after her one-year-old child called the house help "mama" at a family get together.

We never give time to our children so they grow up learning from the media, play stations, social networks, and friends. We then cry foul when they open Instagram accounts and pose naked looking for attention.

We cry when they seek parental love from sponsors and cougars, wondering where we went wrong. We blame ourselves when they take online counsel which is always negative.

The only time we connect with them is during the eulogy reading and the only memory you have of your child is the three-month maternity leave you took twenty years ago - not so much though - just how they bit your nipples and how your back still aches.

Not to forget the c-section scar that messed your wardrobe. We are always at work on weekdays. Baby showers and merry go rounds on weekends.

We are waiting for the last weekend before they open school to crowd entertainment joints.