Philippa: Er... yes. I think it's probably again quite difficult. My father died about ten years ago, and I'm the one who's left totally responsible for my mother. There's nobody else to help at all.

Interviewer: You have two children of your own. Was that a conscious decision because you decided that you didn't want one of your children to be an only child?

Philippa: Yes, very definitely. I didn’t want that to happen and I feel sorry for other children who are only children.

Interviewer: So all in all, being an only child is not something you'd recommend. Philippa: No, certainly not, no, no.

1.What are advantages and disadvantages of being an only child?

2.Are you an only child? If so, are you sorry you are?

3.Are children who have no brothers or sisters different from those who have them?

4.Do you agree with the scientists who say: "Being an only child is an illness"?

5.Do you agree with those who say: "An only child is a lonely child"?

6.How many children would you like to have when you have a family of your own?

Complicated Relationships

Read the story and the lyrics andformulate their moral.

The Little Girl

After K. Mansfield

The little girl was afraid of her father and always tried to keep away from him. Every morning her father came into her room and gave her a kiss, to which she said,

"Good-bye, father". And she was very glad when her father went away.

In the evening he came home and she heard his loud voice in the hall. "Bring my tea into the smoking-room... Hasn't the newspaper come yet?"

"Kezia," mother called to her, "if you are a good girl you can come down and take off father's boots." Slowly the girl went down the stairs, more slowly across the hall and opened the smoking-room door.

Her father had his spectacles on and looked at her over them, and the little girl was afraid.

"Well, Kezia, come here. Help me to take off these boots and take them outside. Have you been a good girl today?"

"I d-d-don't know father."

"You d-d-don't know? If you stutter like that mother will take you to the doctor."

She never stuttered with other people but only with her father, because then she was trying so hard to say the words properly.

"Here, Kezia, carry my cup back to the table - carefully; your hands tremble like an old lady's. And try to keep you handkerchief in you pocket, not in your hand."

"Y-y-yes, father."

On Sundays she sat with him in church while he sang in a loud clear voice. He was so big - his hands and his neck and his mouth. She thought he was a giant.

On Sunday afternoons grandmother sent her down to the drawing-room to have a "nice talk" with father and others. But the little girl always found that mother was reading a magazine and father, his handkerchief on his face, was sleeping on the sofa. She sat down on the chair and watched him until he woke and asked the time. Then he looked at her and said, "Don't look at me so, Kezia. You look like a little brown owl."

One day, when she was ill, grandmother said, "Your father's birthday will be next week. Will you make him a beautiful pincushion for a present?"

The little girl worked hard and sewed three sides of the pincushion. But she did not know what to fill it with. That was the question... The grandmother was out in the garden, and she went into her mother's bedroom to look for something. On the table she found many sheets of fine paper, took them, tore them into small pieces, and filled her case, then she sewed the fourth side.

In the evening father came home and could not find his speech. He asked the servants - but nobody knew anything about it. Then mother came into Kezia's room.

"Kezia, I think you didn't see some papers on a table in our room?" "Oh yes," she said. "I tore them up for my present."

"What!" cried mother. "Go to the drawing-room at once."

And she brought Kezia downstairs where father was pacing to and fro, his hands behind his back.

"Well?" he said sharply. Mother explained.

He stopped and looked at the child. "Did you do that?"

"N-n-no," she answered.

"Mother," he said, "bring me that pincushion and put the child to bed at once." The little girl lay in bed and cried.

Then father came into the room with a ruler in his hands. "I shall beat you for this," he said.

"Oh, no, no!" she cried.

"Sit up," he said, "and hold out your hands. You must know once and for all not to touch what does not belong to you."

"But it was for your b-b-birthday." Down came the ruler on her little hands.

Hours later, when the grandmother came into Kezia's room, the crying child asked, "What did God make fathers for?"

"Sleep, my child, you will forget all about it in the morning. I tried to explain to father, but he didn't want to listen to me tonight."

But the child did not forget. When she saw father she always put both hands behind her back and her cheeks became red.

The Macdonalds lived in the next house. They had five children. Kezia used to look through the hole in the fence.

The children often played with their father. He put the little boy Mac on his back and two little girls ran round him and laughed.

Then she decided that there were different sorts of fathers.

Suddenly, one day, mother became ill, and she and grandmother went to town.

The little girl was alone in the house with Alice, the servant. That was all right in the daytime, but while Alice was putting her to bed she became suddenly afraid.

"What shall I do if I have a bad dream?" she asked. "I often have bad dreams and then grandmother takes me into her bed. I can't stay in the dark"

"Go to sleep, child," said Alice, "don't cry or you will wake your poor father."

But that night she had a bad dream and cried, "Grandma, grandma!" When she woke she saw her father beside her bed, a lamp in his hand. "What is the matter?" he said.

"Oh, a bad dream - 1 want grannie."

Father took her in his arms and carried her to the big bedroom. A newspaper was on the bed. He threw it on the floor, then carefully put the child into the bed and lay down be­ side her. Half asleep she moved close to him. Father was very tired and he slept before the little girl. "Poor father!" she thought. "Not so big after all and there is nobody to look after him. And every day he must work and is too tired to be like Mr. Macdonald. How could I tear his papers..." She sighed...

"What is the matter?" asked father. "Another dream?"

"Oh," said the little girl, "my head is on your heart, I can hear it. What a big heart you have, father, dear."

Cat's In The Cradle

After Harry Chapin

My child arrived just the other day. He came to the world in the usual way.

But there were planes to catch and bills to pay. He learned to walk while I was away.

And he was talking 'fore I knew it And as he grew, he'd say,

"I'm going to be like you, Dad.

You know I’m going to be like you."

CHORUS:

And the cat’s in the cradle and a silver spoon. Little boy blue and the man in the moon. "When are you coming home, Dad?"

"I don't know when.

But we'll get together then, son.

You know we'll have a good time then."

Well, my son turned ten just the other day.

He said, "Thanks for the ball, Dad. Come on, let's play.

Can you teach me to throw?"

I said, "Not today. I've got a lot to do."

He said, "That's okay."

And then he walked away but his smile never dimmed

And said, "I'm going to be like him, yeah.

You know, I'm going to be like him."

CHORUS:

And the cat's in the cradle and a silver spoon. Little boy blue and the man in the moon. "When are you coming home, Dad?"

"I don't know when.

But we'll get together then, son.

You know we'll have a good time then."

Well, he came from college just the other day, So much like a man I just had to say,

"Son, I'm proud of you. Can you sit for awhile?" He shook his head and he said with a smile,

"What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys.