SVP-positive at the family table?
These days, when I think wistfully back to the time when my two teenagers were still sweet toddlers, I always think of a particular book: The Little Caterpillar.
Normally the children aren't at home, but if they are, you'll realise it the first time you look in the fridge, which is empty as soon as you put something tasty in it. On the other hand, anything healthy that is in there will rot untouched.
Nevertheless, I am happy for my teenagers. And I'm particularly pleased that they are also starting to think politically. My daughter in particular has a similar mindset to me at her age, she runs to a demonstration every weekend and puts her fist in the air, then comes home and tells me about it. And then we talk about what's being discussed in her circles.
Today, I have a more differentiated view of many things than I did back then.
In some things we think alike, in others we differ, and then we argue. And it's precisely because I can understand their political views that I really enjoy it, even if I now have a more differentiated view of many things than I did back then.
This reminds me of my father, with whom I often had such discussions when I was her age, and he took a similar stance towards me as I do today: more conservative, more pragmatic and closer to reality. Back then, in my feminist Sturm und Drang phase, that infuriated me. And now that I've grown closer to him, I would love to talk to him about it, but unfortunately my father died far too young.
In return, I now discuss things with my daughter, and because she is a clever child, I also learn from her sensible and thoughtful manner, and so I can sharpen my own ideas with hers. What more could a mother wish for?
The son, on the other hand, is more at home with comedy than politics. He proved this the other day when I came home from an appearance on local television in Basel on a Sunday evening. I had been discussing various political topics with an SVP politician and an advertiser, whereby the SVP politician was particularly noticeable due to his strong aftershave and the fact that he never stayed on topic. And because Sunday is mainly a family day here, my children had kindly cooked for me so that all I had to do was sit down at the table, which is always a highlight.
So I sat down, started to scoop, when I suddenly realised that the hand I had given the SVP still smelled strongly of his aftershave. I made a comment about it, to which my son asked: «What are you saying? Your hand smells like SVP?» And then: «Does that mean you're SVP-positive now?» We burst out laughing.
No, I'm not contaminated and calling myself SVP-positive probably isn't accurate either. But it's a good feeling to know that even then we could still sit together at the family table and discuss it sensibly. What more could a mother wish for?
