Guess What?

Satisfaction

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There’s so much to love, so much to hate,

The satisfaction from beaches, scorching sunshine and Coke….. guess the State?

 

Lollipop Memories

Lollipop

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Stubby little fingers feeding pigeons perched on a loft beneath the window sill.

The rotund pushing the frail aside; how she wished she could feed them all.

Her mother calls and she scurries, across the terrace that singed her bare feet.

She plows into a massive form and yet she cannot wait or stall.

Mother hands a note that says ‘pint of milk’ with a rupee and sends her off.

Papers dancing in trifling whirl winds, open drains with paper boats.

Cycle skidding in the dust, hawker selling sullied ice cream cones,

And when a scarce car whooshes by,

The urchins race across to break their bones.

The counter-top at general store is too high;

The peddler smiles at enormous eyes and knows their name.

He hands the change and while she gawks;

At neat stacks of jars with soggy biscuits and lollipops;

He wonders if she ever talks.

She flits back home, she hands the change.

Twenty years subsequent, she gazes at buildings with a hundred floors, watching the sun skim windows on building tops.

Still haunted by native dust and smelly alleys, lazy street dogs and broken kites;

Insufferably longing for soggy biscuits and lollipops.

 

LOL

Edible

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Neil – Is there anything edible in here? I’m bored and can’t go near the fridge, mom is writing this blog on healthy eating.

Avi – Yep you don’t wanna get caught…just eat some popcorn that’s under the couch.

Neil – The roaches have got to that.

Avi – How about the muffin behind the TV?

Neil – Nah..the rat stole it.

Avi – Eat my chocolate cake.

Neil – You do know there are ants in that, right? What else can I do?

Avi – You can do one thing…. call pest control.

Neil – That’s it, I’m going to steal something from fridge. If I get caught I’ll say I’m helping finish all the junk food before we start our healthy eating program.

 

 

I don’t wanna grow up

Tailor

If you want to feel good on a lousy day, pull up an old album with pictures from when you looked like you were choking on a bone while wearing your grandma’s drapes. “Wow didn’t I turn into a butterfly!” you think….see it works every time. Better yet, look at your siblings and then get them on the phone to make fun of how dorky they looked back then.

Thanks to a 10/10 tailor shop called “Perfact Darzi” (Perfect Tailor) owned by a 100 year old guy, we wore dresses that lasted 10 years. At the awkward age of 11 when store bought frocks stopped fitting, my mother started insisting I should wear tailor-made dresses. “But I don’t wanna grow up” I scream. She dragged me to Parfact Darzi anyway.

Now for the nightmare. Time for the fitting. The tailor brought his tape and asked me to stand straight with my arms raised. I cursed him in my mind. There were 10 other people gawking at me from the shop front. He hastily read out some measures to his assistant. He was not supposed to touch me so the inches he read were off by 2. The skirt was 4 inches below the knee. “I want it shorter” I yell. “No baby girl, good girls must wear this long” he calmly retorts. The cloth that was turning into my dress was a piece of 100 yard wallpaper print fabric that is going to be shared by all my siblings and cousins. And it gets better- we will take a family photograph that I will look at after 20 years and get a good laugh.

Hey at least the 2 inches plus on the bust line was flattering for the benefit of the audience at the tailor shop.

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Are We There Yet?

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via Passenger

Here’s another story on a road trip written by my 10-year old and me….

Motherish:

“Get outta here…” “I hate you…” “Are we there yet?”… “I’m hungry….” I’m sleepy”… “noooooo, I’m nooooooooottttttt whiiiiiiining”…

“SHUT UP”

Sound familiar? Of course it does, to all of you who had kids as passengers on a road trip or a long flight. I love to travel, or rather I used to….sitting idly in a plane, on a 36 hour flight across the globe, being served food, reading with your feet tucked in, on your seat, with super-tight wiggle room. Well, all that’s a dream now. Picture a frazzled mom with 2 boys in tow, everybody looking at you like you were the walking dead. Or constantly looking for the road signs for the next gas station because Avi does not have to pee when Neil does, and Avi has to pee when the next rest area is not for 42 miles. Avi likes Chick-fil-A while Neil only likes pizza. Dad likes neither of course. And mom lives only on coffee.

“Are we there yet?”

“No, Neil, we are going to be driving for 3 more hours. Why don’t you take a nap?”

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOK”

“MOOOOOOOOOmmmmm, Avi’s smelly feet are on my faaaaace.”

“Mom, he just farted, eeeewwww.”

Well, we didn’t have to to be told that, because we were already rolling our windows down.”

OMG, what do I feed these kids.

Dad threatens to take their electronics away.

A very peaceful 5 minutes. I try to turn the radio on.

…….“Are we there yet?”

 

Childish:

We look at each other very quietly, It’s the biggest Staredown 2017, it’s in a world records book. One of us is going to fart and whoever did first was losing their “TV Privileges”.

We were all arguing over food options, dad wanted a healthy place, mom just wanted caffeine. I didn’t care and Neil wanted pizza. At one point we went to subway and I had a worse experience than dad’s first time at subway. He wrote a whole story on that. I thought olives were chocolate. Imagine how many I stuffed into my mouth. My mom gave me a stare like medusa and I froze in place, unable to barf the olives out. Then I tried to take a nap, Neil’s feet were always in my face, and every 5 minutes he’d fart and practically make our car a moving barrel with toxic chemicals. Mom wanted coffee which she gets every hour, and I actually tried it and figured out how it keeps her alive. Neil says “Are we there yet” every 5 minutes. When he is not bugging us, he wants chicken and I told him you can’t eat your own kind. That resulted in my face looking like a ball rolled in mud.

So then I gave up and just took a nap……..roadtrips are fun….for us.

 

Our Maid Stories

via Relieved

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My 10 year old and I have our own takes on everything, here is an example of what I wrote in my journal and what he wrote in his:

Motherish:

As a mother of two boys, high blood pressure is a part of life and so is dodging food meteors and stepping into shoes with GI Joe in them. In my case, the MLU (Maids Labor Union), has framed photographs of my family in their corporate headquarters, as the most dreaded family. Only the bravest, most expensive and/or newest maids venture out to work for us. What is it with boys and aiming right into the toilet pot? Their bathrooms are a mess, their closets probably have raccoons living under the piles of clothes. I set about cleaning the house, feel so good, head over to the shower and when I am back out, the house is back to normal and so is my blood pressure. I just wait for the visit from my maids.  On one occasion we were home when the maids came and my little one followed them to every room asking them if they were evil. He even asked them to go away but luckily my maids hardly speak any English. And when the house is clean and smelling like Clorox all I feel is…..RELIEVED!!

Childish:

The house was under a maid attack!!!!

Our lives are ruined boys!!!!!!!THE BEAUTIFUL STINK OF SOCKS!!!!! THE PILE OF SOFT CLOTHES ON THE CARPET!!!!!!! THE BUILDINGS OF SCATTERED TOYS ALL OVER THE GROUND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At least they didn’t touch or move any of my action figures.

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Minutes

Later

THEY ARE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!OUR COLLECTIBLES ARE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Who takes a collectible off a decent spot (on the floor) and puts them on… get ready………THE SHELF!!!!!!!!!

My little brother to the rescue…he got his little lizard and showed it to one of the maids. She screamed and ran right out of the house…….rammed into mom’s shrubs while backing out (sure reason she is not coming back). And I swear all the boys in the house felt….RELIEVED!!!