Hade Kerd Nai Krobkrua

Hello! My name is Por, and I’m 10 years old. I have an older sister named Pa, who is 12. We’re literally a “P-family,” because our father is named Pun, and our mother is named Pat. Come closer, tilt your ear, I’ve got some gossip about my parents to tell you.
My mother is a strong, capable woman—not the quiet, submissive type of traditional Thai women. She’s an outspoken academic, always off debating here or giving lectures there, and she has quite a reputation. But at home, she’s a hopeless housewife—even burning fried eggs. She can’t compete with my father, who, despite working at a high-paying foreign company, cooks better than Mom (and I’m not taking sides here).
It’s these little domestic quarrels that often spiral into bigger battles in our family. A fight about fried eggs can blow up into discussions about gender rights and even politics. My dad? Well, he can’t match Mom in words; the most he does is whisper behind her back to me that she talks so much even monkeys would fall asleep. And, as usual, whenever the adults fight, it trickles down to smaller battles between Pa and me. I guess it’s hereditary—when parents clash frequently, children inherit the habit. Luckily, we don’t go to the same school, so our fights are confined to home.
But our family troubles don’t end there. My dad has never gotten along with my grandmother. Some say it’s because he’s sharp-tongued; another reason is because she once had her eyes on Uncle Chat, who now is almost a general. But my mom ended up marrying Dad instead (I suspect the first reason is the main one).
My parents’ love story began romantically abroad when Mom went for her master’s degree. Dad, despite only having a college degree in business, got a chance to work with a foreign organization while overseas. The circumstances were perfect, and they married in a whirlwind, much to my grandmother’s dismay. At that time, they were very much in love; Dad found Mom’s stubbornness and sulkiness adorable. But over time, Dad seems to have changed his mind.
The elders on both sides don’t get along well either. My maternal grandmother and paternal grandmother are completely different types of older women. My grandmother, nearly 60, looks younger, dresses stylishly, and plays golf. My other grandmother is just a regular old woman running a garden in Nonthaburi. Mom often mocks her, but I tend to favor the latter over my grandmother.
On Mom’s side, only Aunt Mai gets along with Dad. She’s a modern, educated woman, a good cook, and unlike Mom, she’s competent in the kitchen. Though she’s the youngest daughter, my grandmother doesn’t favor her much, probably because she’s headstrong, like my father.
Dad’s friend, Uncle Pong, is also part of the circle. He’s a widower, his son studies abroad, and he often complains about not remarrying because of the meddling of his late mother-in-law.
Lately, Mom hasn’t been home much—out at associations or playing golf—which led to hiring a new housekeeper, Khae, a charming widow who cooks deliciously. Since she arrived, Dad seems a bit happier, maybe because his coffee tastes better.
Our family’s real troubles began when Dad lost his job. It was hard for a man in his thirties to adjust to unemployment. While Dad’s career graph fell, Mom’s soared; she was rumored to become a deputy director. Uncle Chat also flourished, nearly becoming a general and entering politics. Comparisons, gossip, and my grandmother’s criticism only worsened tensions at home.
Even though Mom and Dad argue fiercely, they don’t sleep separately—they share the same room. Unlike Pa and me, who fight constantly, Dad and Mom chose to stay together.
Then came news of Uncle Rong, Mom’s brother, becoming a minister. This stirred up the family, elevating Aunt Chuen’s status and affecting others like my cousin Joi, who I don’t like much because he’s temperamental and boastful. These events, while seemingly unrelated, ripple through our family and affect us kids.
After some political shifts, Mom had to go abroad for 20 days. During that time, Dad stayed regularly at home, Pa stayed at our grandmother’s house, and I was left with Dad. Aunt Mai and Uncle Pong would visit. They sometimes argued but had fun, unlike Mom and Dad whose fights were more serious. I began fearing marriage, even at age ten, seeing how adults handled conflict.
Our grandmother also acted like a ninja, checking in on me, warning me to look after Dad and Khae. Then Kham Sai revealed rumors about Khae and Dad, which confused me as a child. But Khae continued to behave properly, so it didn’t seem like a big issue.
When Mom returned, Dad and Mom didn’t fight openly; the household was tense but appearances were maintained. Pa and I continued our small sibling disputes and adventures. Later, Dad had to work abroad in Malaysia for three months. Aunt Mai, Uncle Pong, and Pa took care of me during that time.
As events unfolded, I realized the adults’ stubbornness (“tit”) was affecting us kids, though we didn’t fully understand it. Despite misunderstandings, illnesses, and family turmoil, Pa and I waited hopefully for Dad and Mom to reconcile.
Yes, Pa and I waited for our parents to make up. With hope, I didn’t mind waiting. As Uncle Pong once said, children are the heart and future of the nation. While we’re growing and preparing for the future, adults should help guide us, not leave us waiting in uncertainty. If we want a better future, adults must be responsible too.