You’re taking over our room like one of those poisonous creepers. Laptop charger, phone charger, blue tooth ear piece charger… I can’t walk an inch without tripping over wires and threatening to break my neck. Two words – Get out of my space. Yes, I can count; I just felt like saying the phrase – two words.
No love here,
The badtempered, crazy old bat you live with
PS: Whenever I get really mad at you, I force myself to remember that day 8 years ago when I came to meet you in Hyderabad. The train was pulling into the station, I was standing at the doorway looking out for you and you were right at the beginning of the platform looking out for me. As my coach passed you, you began to jog along the train and we just grinned at each other, too happy to even speak. Family friends who happened to be travelling with me looked at each other knowingly. I don’t know why the memory lived on but I see you in the white tee and blue jeans, all bright eyed and bushy tailed and shining with happiness. And then (because no story of ours could end mushily and we can never end a train story peacefully) I figured the train was taking too long to stop so I decided to jump out with my bag. The only flaw in the plan being the execution – the bag was heavy, the train was moving quite fast, I went flying out in a tangle of arms and legs, bag leading the way, almost landing face first on the platform and nearly losing my legs (they fell towards the tracks). You aren’t known as mountain goat for no reason and you caught me and my luggage while the horrified family friends standing behind me whizzed by, screaming out to me. Good times.
It’s hard to say anything more than – I love you. And have you noticed, you’re developing the most beautiful dimples on either side of your mouth – right within your smile lines. And that you gurgle when you laugh. And that you give the most amazing back rubs. Before someone screams child labour, I must admit that I had nothing to do with it. You just climb up behind me while I work and dig your fingers into my tense muscles and before I know it I relax and feel better. Some lucky girl better pay me for all this – yes, even though it wasn’t my doing!
I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t put your arms around me in your sleep when I sneak into your room to check on you for the nth time at night and bend down to kiss you. It makes it damn hard for me to go back to my own room. What is worse is that you start patting me in your sleep and murmuring “go to sleep baby…”
In case you missed the memo – I am the mother, not you.
PS: Aunty Smartassbride says I must post about this, so here goes. This evening your brother was rolling on the bed and wrestling with dada, gurgling that lovely gurgle of a laugh of his. I absently said – “My beautiful son, I love the way you laugh…’ To which you, sitting on the floor and colouring away as usual, looked up and said – “And you have a beautiful daughter too.” Self esteem you’ll never be short of. As for me? I’m always pleading. This afternoon I asked you – Who loves you, precious? And you said smugly, “mamma does.” And then I foolishly asked “and who do you love, angel?” And you replied, “Dada”. People ought to learn to quit while they’re ahead.