Dear readers, the schools are now closed here in London. Which is very convenient. Because now I have to deal with unbearable heat seeping into every pore of my being, but also with unbearable children demanding non-stop entertainment until the schools reopen.

Look readers, make no mistake. I love my children very much. They are wonderful. They are well behaved, they both like reading books, they will eat a wide variety of cuisines, and if I ever tell them to switch off the TV, they will do so immediately, without hesitation, after just 20-35 requests.

Who cannot love children like these?

But, and I am open to your support here, how do you keep children entertained for two months until the schools reopen? Perhaps I am wearing rose-tinted glasses here, but back in my childhood, this was not at all a problem.

If I went to my mother and told her that I was bored and needed entertainment, she would immediately ask me to approach the nearest grandparent and ask them for inputs. My grandparents — bless their souls, may they rest in peace — had two very different approaches to this.

My grandfather would make up entirely fake chores to keep me occupied. For instance, he once asked me to measure the surface area of every wall in my ancestral home so that he could estimate the cost of getting the house painted. Three hours later, after extremely diligent work, I would go back and tell him that the total surface area was something in the range of 17-and-a-half kilograms.

He gave me a bar of Five Star chocolate and then informed my mother that she had better start preparing my younger brother for full-time salaried employment because Sidin “seems more of a creative type with a distinct sense of unemployability”.

My grandmother, on the other hand, would make me do actual chores. Go buy vegetables from the shop. See if the chickens have been fed. Check if the milkman has brought milk. The latter ended in tragedy sometime in 1983. She sent me to figure out the milk situation. I found a few bottles of milk. Moved them all to the kitchen for boiling. But then decided to take a swig out of one of the bottles. For the thrills.

Moments later, I was admitted to Sacred Heart Hospital in Pullur, Irinjalakuda, with a form of dysentery that can only be described as explosive.

But now look at my daughter. She comes to me and says: “I would like you to take me to a music performance. And before that, I would like to go to a fancy restaurant for dinner. I have never been to a fancy restaurant.”

So, I took her. And, like any 12-year-old these days, she ate enough to fill 3-4 full-sized adults. Throughout, we were served by the most amazing waiter. The moment he heard that this was my daughter’s first “fancy restaurant meal”, he pulled out all the stops. He was funny, engaging, entertaining, and made her feel like a total VIP. Immediately, I made a mental note to give the waiter a generous tip for his services.

After the meal, followed by an iced matcha latte, we arrived at the music performance. It was a magnificent two hours of live show. My daughter was enraptured. She did not say a single thing that you expect pre-teen children to say these days: “I am so tired. This is so boring. How much time is left? Can we go home? Can you please stop making these jokes in public, you are embarrassing me.” Et cetera.

Afterwards, I purchased a few snacks for her, and then we got on a train back home. Twenty minutes into our 30-minute journey, she looked at me.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“I am extremely bored. Can we do something interesting when we get home?”

I excused myself, went to the bathroom, and then strangled my water bottle to death. Then I came back and promised her to find something interesting for her to do.

Readers, why are children like this? Are you a child reading this article? Why are you people like this? It makes no sense. Perhaps there should be a word for this situation. And that word is: fundemic.

Example sentence: “Kavitha thought she had cured her daughter’s fundemic by enrolling her in art class, swimming lessons, piano practice, and a robotics workshop, but by Wednesday, the child emerged from her schedule and said ‘Amma, there is literally nothing to do in this house. Are we living in an art film?’”

Friends, have you been the victim of a fundemic? What do I do? Also does anybody want to borrow a 12-year-old and/or a six-year-old for a few weeks? Speedy responses, please.

The writer helps early stage companies communicate better. He blogs at www.whatay.com.

Published - August 06, 2026 01:42 pm IST