Kolby Mondays: The Dictator

When I get home on Mondays these days, I look out for a pair of small shoes on the shoe rack as I unlock the door. A pair of small white school shoes belonging to Kolby.

On Monday, the shoes were there. The boy is in! He welcomed me with a cheeky expression along with a skip and a hop as usual. He was in the room with dad and mom, he told mom it's scary to be in the living room alone.

I sat down for dinner and asked how many bowls of soup he's had. The soup-guzzling boy said proudly that he's had four bowls of soup with rice. I'm pleased and I'm sure mom is. It's almost like every Monday, we stuff him with as much home cooked food as he could manage in an attempt to make his predominantly fast-food based diet a little more balanced.

But the boy is not yet done. As I sat down to have my dinner, Kolby climbed onto the chair next to mine so that he could land himself on my lap. He made himself very comfortable before starting his dictating.

"Gugu I want pork...I want egg...I want rice... I don't want corn...I want carrot with rice..."

I saw the egg was too big for him and bit off a part before feeding him. "It's too big for you," I said. "But my mouth is very big!" the small boy said.

He smelled like a baby that day and I told him so. He looked a little puzzled and then continued dictating what he should be fed. And finally he ended his evening of dictatorship by dictating the flavour of ice cream he should have and that he absolutely must have a second scoop!

I dream of a snowy night

The couple was walking along a snow-paved street. The street was all white and set aglow with the orange of the street lamps that lined the desolate street. It had been snowing and the street was all quiet and empty, except for a few cars lined on the sides of the road.

And except the wife who was nagging at her husband, on and on, until he eventually slowed his steps and lagged behind a little. He simply strayed behind until he caught sight of a car and started walking towards it. The wife continued, walking and talking, without realising he was no longer following closely behind.

He found the familiar face in the car and stepped into the car. They must be lovers.

At some point, the wife must have turned around and realised that her husband was no longer there. She retraced her steps. The street was as desolate as it was when they first found it, he was nowhere in sight. As she walked, she started looking into the cars.

She walked past one car after another until she found a man and a woman inside a car, each seated in their own seat in the front. They were covered in snow till almost their necks, motionless. His eyes were closed and so were the woman's. They looked like they are dead.

The man's face was slightly tilted, so she inched closer so that she could see his face. It was her husband.

Just when the medic and the ambulance came, the husband opened his eyes. He saw his wife. He somehow managed to get himself out of the car. And went away with her. The woman opened her eyes at about the same time. She too got out of the car and a young lady arrived to bring her home.

The woman left her contact details with the people from the emergency services. Her car is covered with snow, and so is the street. There is no way she is taking her car away that night anyway. She started walking away from the car and away from the scene.

Kolby Mondays

Kolby has been visiting these days on Mondays. "Uncle van", mom's colleague who drives her home in his van, will pick him up on the way home. And mom would make soup, which the small boy would slurp bowl after bowl.  There's nothing that makes mom more happy than feeding him home-cooked food. The small boy simply has too much French fries and fast food in his little tummy.

When I return home, Kolby would usually act coy. Sometimes he is a little more welcoming and would shout "gugu" at the top of his voice. At first I used to tease him,"you again!" And he would try to push me away and get into a verbal  sparring of "you agains" while giggling uncontrollably.

And it always ends with watching cartoon. The first time he came, the little tyrant insisted on watching programme "for children". When nothing on tv fit the bill,  I resorted to my stash of dvds and we ended up with "Up". It has since been an after-dinner ritual. Today it's my third time watching "Up". He says it's his favourite show. But actually I love it too!

The first time I watched it I was seated on the floor, my back against the couch n my legs bent, creating a valley between my torso and thighs . Kolby took the opportunity to jump onto me and made me his human armchair. His small body leaned against mine and his head rested back comfortably as he watched his favourite cartoon.

And often the routine of soup-shower-cartoon would end on the perfect note - with ice cream. We would eat ice cream till his daddy came to pick him up.  This seems like a perfect treat for him, fed good wholesome food and pampered by grandma and aunt. But it's also a perfect treat to us to start the week with the joy the cheeky small boy brings.