This new millennial kids will kill me one day. Today, I was huddled up in some room with some kids. By huddled up, I don’t mean we were crammed in a tiny room with little or no ventilation, with some kids covered up in sand, oozing thick yellow fluid from their noses. No, not a typical kid. What I mean is, it was a socially awkward situation because as much as I love kids and yes, I am dying to be a mother, I wouldn’t know what to tell these new millennial up-town kids. I mean those kids from gated estates who are picked from school with a Prado or some big car. Some of us went to district education board schools and if our parents got some salary increment, we enjoyed middle class pleasures of attending those private schools that can’t afford a bus and by now, the classes we once knew are housing some lower middle-class families.

The little one a girl, most probably aged 7 burst into the room with some confidence almost cockiness. The seats were fewer than the number of heads in the room. So she kept on whining, ‘Mum, I don’t have a seat! Mummy, I want to sit. ‘ I was confused and at the same time amazed by her spew of confidence and self- entitlement. I wondered what kind of teachers were teaching these kids and the kind of foods these teachers ate. Our teachers should be awarded for dishing out crazy punishments. You try naughtiness and they will throw your confidence out the window. Sometimes the teacher would tell you how ugly you are or make you sit between boys. But these ones, they are being taught confidence. Their learning is written confidence all over. Believe you me, the kid intimidated me to surrendering the chair.

Then the middle child, a boy, was asked if he wanted to be like mummy. The mummy is pretty young, those women I admire. The ones I’d go out for coffee dates with and take goofy selfies with. She’s a self-established woman who hasn’t played her womanhood, or sold her true nature short. She speaks for ‘ as much as I made it, I don’t necessarily subscribe to that I-don’t-need-a-man crap.

Anyhu, this little boy blurts out, ‘I want to be a cardiologist.’ And the mum asked,’ I thought you wanted to be a neurologist!’ My mouth dropped, a little bead of sweat showed up on my face. The uneasiness. God! The boy goes ahead and interjects the mum, ‘No, I wanted to be a neurosurgeon.’ Okay, for those who don’t know, a cardiologist is a heart specialist and a neurologist is a nerve(system) specialist. I guess we all know who a neurosurgeon is, because at one point, we all wanted the big job with a big name. Now, we are trapped with jobs that can’t be summed up in two words, you need more than 141 twitter characters to explain what you do. And the worst-case scenario is being trapped with that uptown kid because if he asked you what your job was, you’d end up receiving a fake phone call and leave the room to think about your life.