My mom sounded pained when I called to enquire about Ash today morning. The law of parental gravitational energy is such that you call the house where your child is domiciled more than the other. The law applies more for the inlaws' house. I call mil morning and night when Ash is there but otherwise I cut the calls to once a week. She doesnt blame me - such is parental concern.
Coming back to my mom. "What are you two working people going to do with this poor boy when he comes there?" she asked. She told me that Ash began itching the moment he hit bed yesterday(though I had asked mom to use a freshly laundered bedsheet for him in case it was dust mites that was aggravating the itchiness). What baffles us is that he is fine throughout the day - it could be because he is too busy playing to bother about his body. (I need to take him to Dr Patrick or Dr. Thambiah, keeping aside the traditional medicines for a while.)
She is doubtful if the maid will help relieve Ash's discomfort when we are away at work. One cant expect the maid to function the way the grandmothers do - sponging his body in hot water adding a pinch of salt and potassium permanganate or rubbing the affected area with their blunt nails. "Ammachide kayyilu nakamilla," Ash complains, and takes up the job himself. We take care to keep his nails trimmed, so that he doesnt bruise himself too much.
Ash butts in and tells me that the Papa next door (my uncle) has a moustache, that Appacha is watching Pogo (!!) and that Bruno is in his cage. I tell him to he leave his wagon set back there; I dont want it going the way of all toys here - broken or missing. He understands when I tell him that Vaava will lose it.
I guess we adults ought to stop cashing in on the sibling rivalry.
Mira is no better. She licks her icecream cup clean and confides: "Achacha cant have this. He will itch."
But sometimes she pretends to be suffering from a very itchy eye and skin. She rubs her eyes and howls: "Ente kannu muriyunne."
And today it was a mosquito bite on her chumbi (bum) .
When a child is born, so is a mother... A working mother's growing up years with her two children.
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1 comment:
interesting.
tc
ust
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