This is a sentence which to this very day rubs me slightly the wrong way. Not that people say that to me now. Thankfully. I am obviously old enough these days to have whatever needs to be explained explained to me (and pretty good at understanding subtexts on my own, thus removing a fair bit of needing to explain). But, thinking back on all the times I were told this by one of my parents, I feel somehow… cheated! I can remember that even at that time, I knew they wouldn’t, they wouldn’t explain it to me when I got older. Because at which time it would have been forgotten. I should have written it down, every one of the jokes I didn’t get, all the punchlines which no one wanted to explain to me then, I should have written them all down. And when I did get older I should have taken them out and had them explain them to me. Because they said they would.
For a couple of weeks, months even, I would store the punchline or jokes inside me, and every now and then ask for it to be explained. But I never got old enough fast enough. Sooner or later I would forget, and the next time I thought about my parents owing me some explaining, I could never really remember what they were supposed to explain.
I am aware that if I did remember now, or if I had written it down, it would not have been anything very interesting. But still I do feel cheated somehow. When I think of it I get this annoyed itch inside of me. I get this urge to call my dad up, to call my mum up, to make them do all the explaining they once promised to me that they would.