Wet days and pesky kids

So we ventured into Sainsbury's mid afternoon. It's one of those days when the sun doesn't penetrate the gloom and any attempts to jollify the situation seem somewhat half hearted and insufficient. So, after a few hours of carefully distracting the girls with books, colouring pads, games and anything else not produced by Microsoft or Nintendo, I surrendered to cabin fever and drove to the local supermarket.
Since becoming a Mother eight years ago, I still recoil (every single time) from unsolicited offerings of advice, unless they are useful and productive.
Gems of wisdom differ greatly from the bleeding obvious.
At the counter, having just paid for two comics, I took them away from my girls, telling them to wait until we get home. They look disappointed. Disappointment is part of life, right ?
So the checkout assistant, who looks no older than about seventeen, casts me a disparaging glance and (whilst idling picking her bejewelled nails at the same time) said
` I used to hate it when my Mum did that; I was terrified of her`
And then I got to thinking. Are my daughter's terrified of me for witholding their comics for all of fifteen minutes? Whatever happened to patience? Whatever happened to manners?
I see examples of instant gratification everywhere and have fallen prey myself.
Most people think me too soft and indulgent, rather than bolshy and unfeeling.
I remember what 'terrified' me when I was growing up. The threat of a hard hand across the back of my legs.
Kids today. Don't know they were born I tell ya.