So, how do you feel after your mother has hit you on the head with a trash can?

Received wisdom says you might feel angry, affronted, abused, shocked, surprised, frightened, furious, perhaps even sympathetic. In my case, it is none of the above.

I felt angry at the time, but more because mum was not complying with my idea of how to deal with her cut finger than because she'd clocked me one. Today, having slept on it, I feel two quite different emotions, neither of which is particularly 'politically correct': amusement and boredom.

I'm amused because I can appreciated the farcical qualities of the scenario in which a frail old woman attacks a six foot three man and gets away with it. I'm amused at the schadenfreude inherent in anyone getting bopped on the head with a large and rather resonant plastic bin. But I'm bored with having to deal with this kind of nonsense. I'm bored with parents that can no longer offer anything in the way of mental stimulation - unless it is seen as some kind of test of my social ingenuity. I'm bored with the repetition. I've lost interest in being called on to deal with problems that should never happen, I cannot fix, are quickly forgotten, and sometimes don't even exist.  All of our lives, mum's, dad's and mine are surely meant to be about more than this?

It is odd that the caregiver literature only rarely deals with the funny side of dementia, and never deals with the boredom. I've seen talk of 'caregiver burnout' but that is something quite distinct from the boredom. I've realised just recently that the highly constructive and exploratory attitude I originally had towards my parents' dementia has been replaced by a more pedestrian line in dutiful resignation. I wonder how common this is.