The cat is growling....

indeed I am ready to scratch and snarl. This morning's paper did it. There is a (front page) proposal to teach pre-school children political correctness. This is not the 'care for each other' type but the 'two mummies and fly the indigenous flag' type.
That makes me sound a homophobic racist. I hope I am not homophobic or racist. My cousin is gay - and I think his partner is one of the most loving, caring men I know. I am perfectly comfortable in his company and he is sort of related to me. My friends have a variety of skin colours and I am perfectly comfortable with that as well. But, and it is a big but, I have objections to overtly teaching small children about homosexuality or racism. They do not have the vocabulary or the experience to understand these things. It will merely cause confusion. It may even cause alarm.
If we go along with Piaget (undoubtedly cast by the way side by these politically correct left wing activists) then we must still acknowledge that small children see the world from their point of view. They do not have the capacity to see it from the point of view of other people. We can and should teach them about the necessity for caring for others and thinking about others. We do not need to teach them about differences they can do nothing about . We do not need to raise their awareness of problems that, as adults, we have not solved for as long as human beings have existed.
I suspect the proposals are more about left wing politics than they are about genuinely caring that kids learn to care.
Having had my little rant - yesterday was marvellous fun. We left later than planned. (Why am I not surprised?) We made it to a very crowded Victor Harbor and went out to Granite Island on the horse drawn tram. It would not set the word speed record but the Clydesdale which pulls it is a gentle beast who puts up with a great deal...I hope he understood our thanks! We had a very late snack in a crowded pizza place and toured back through the wineries....the others thought they were lost. I was relieved when my predictions about needing to turn right a little further on were correct. Dad is not interested in wineries. He fell asleep in the car. I kept him company, knitted and watched a fascinating array of often grossly overweight individuals returning to their cars. If I drank alcohol I would be even larger than I am now.