The article explores the author's unexpected realizations as an empty nester, reflecting on the dynamics of their household and long-standing habits. Despite a belief in bread bins, the author discovers that they rarely use theirs. With children grown, they grapple with nostalgia for family routines, food preferences, and the urge to embrace a new lifestyle. The author humorously alludes to societal expectations, such as getting a dog after their pet's death, while choosing to maintain a low-maintenance household instead. Ultimately, the piece encapsulates the bittersweet nature of transitioning away from active parenting.
I believe, instinctively, ancestrally, in bread bins; I come from bread-bin stock. But since we acquired ours five years ago, it has been used probably five times.
We are now a Nando’s-free household after years of peri-peri tyranny, but I find myself pining for macho peas and pallid, lukewarm chips.
It turns out that even I am not a bread-bin person. Our younger son just turned 21, meaning we are a childless household in every official sense of the term.
I don’t want a dog. It has been 18 months since my beloved dog Oscar died... but I don’t want to nurture anything more demanding than our roster of surrogate children.
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