Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Senti blogposts (and I hope he never read them)

Rahul has me wrapped around his finger. There, I've gone on record admitting as much. It's taken me nearly seven years to admit it even to myself. I refused to be one of those doting mums. Especially when I discovered that I had given birth to a boy I promptly made myself promise that I would never be that Bengali mother. You know the one I mean. Who sits outside her son's class and copies notes for him. Who carries his bag for him and feeds him the tiffin. Who spends her life worrying about his needs and is convinced that he is above reproach.

I blame the fatal Libran charm. I've never been able to resist it. A few months ago he was up to no good and I was about to scold him when he put his skinny arms around me and hugged me tight. I weakly ticked him off anyway but not even I felt that my words had quite the effect they were meant to. Across the room my mother sniggered unkindly.

All it takes is for a sleepy little boy to tell me that I'm his special, special, special, special, special Babu and I lose track of what I was planning to say or do. It's not fair, because I've never had that effect on anybody, not even my father. Well, maybe him, but it didn't last long enough!

It's not even as though he has the decency to share my interests or speak my language or like my baking or anything. Consider that having dreamt of the day when I would read bedtime stories from Enid Blyton to my child, I endure nightly readings from books about ghastly underwater sea creatures (tonight's featured cookie cutter sharks and went into great detail about exactly how they earned their name). Consider that this revolting child has the cheek to turn his nose up at home-made cake merely because the glace cherries got a bit old and manky. He gets his clothes all dirty, wants to wear the same ugly t-shirts each day ignoring the adorable printed cotton shirts I sourced from all over (I even changed the buttons on one shirt after hunting down the most adorable patterned wooden ones). He fights with me all day and tells me with great relish that I don't really know everything (oh yeah?) and that I'm not really a genius (ses who?) and thinks he has the right to play hard to get when I want a hug. Because that is what I endured it all for, right?

And then, not having messed with my head enough, he messes it some more by turning over in his sleep looking for me. That's when I write senti blogposts and hope he never reads them.


5 comments:

shub said...

Haha. This post is love itself. Beautiful, Sue :-)

R's Mom said...

Awww! thats such a beautiful adorable post :)

S S said...

Awwww you! This was meant to be! Such a darling post.

P.S. I don't think he'll need to read them. Them Libran chappies know ;)

dipali said...

Such a sweetheart of a post!

Sue said...

Thank you all!

S S -- I hope he always knows and never forgets how much he is loved.