22 Apr When a daughter calls her parents ‘naughty’…
If your pre-teen walks into your bedroom one morning, stands imposingly, looks at you with a slanted head and queries, “So you guys are getting naughty, aah!”, how would you react?
At least I missed more than a few heart beats. I also squeezed hard at my husband until he shrugged and moved away, adding to my discomfort.
“Where are you going?” I snapped at him, feeling rather exposed by his assumed abandonment more than the situation we were thrown into together.
“You are hurting my armpit!” He whimpered.
Was it the pain I inflicted or his lack of coherence in stringing thoughts of the previous night, I couldn’t exactly place.
My poor man! His underarm was the closest of him near me that I could grab for support before my balance threatened to leave me after our daughter’s broad daylight accusation.
I attempted to speak and thought it was wise to play coy this time. Dads are better at handling daughters, I’ve learnt with recent experiences. Especially pre-teen girls are to be precariously dealt with, I have been advised by my friends, too.
So, I drew closer to his new position, on the bed, and nudged, “What is she saying?” Before, he could answer, our young lady replied, “Oh! Oh! What ignorance!” Now her hands were on her hips and one foot stepped in front of the other. She guarded a sly smile, which unsettled me.
“You can’t be walking into our bedroom like this,” I blurted throwing my resolve to the wind.
“Whoowaat!” she drawled and I pressed myself beside the husband as if his touch will transfer in me some courage to handle the situation.
“You like to sit cozy, cozy like this, yeah. And do all naughty things?”
The husband picked up his mobile in an impulse as if an earth-shattering bulletin was waiting for his attention. I grabbed the phone from his hand, “This can wait.”
“Remember, the phone rang early morning. Let me check who it is.” He was wriggling out. No way!
“This can wait,” I ordered.
“Let him check. May be it’s from his office. The server might be down, you never know,” our girl philosophied.
“Yeah, beta. Your mama can never understand such things.” He sat scrolling the BB screen.
And I followed suit. Sat still, gazing at his mobile screen, like an athlete concentrating to take off on the field.
“Hello! Leave Papa alone. You tell me. Why were you both reading my friend’s message yesterday night?”
Phew!!!
So much for giving kids your email id!
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