Ban the bloody gift

‘Ok Mama, ready for the party. Where’s the gift?’ shouts Neel.

Where’s the gift? Where’s what gift? What’s what gift? .... Didn’t buy it!!! Help!

You’d think I’d learn from past experience, but I never do, do I?

So, the marathon panic session begins yet again.

I charge up to the hidden stash of gifts they’ve been given – duplicates etc. Pull out the cooking set. Won’t do. It’s a boy’s party. Not a single rotten car. Or Beyblade. There’s a headless superman. Won’t do! Books? The kids too young for Harry Potter and too old for Noddy. Money’s too cheap to give! Help Help!

‘Mamaaa, getting late!’ the yell drifts up.

The cooking set it will be! Maybe the little boy will grow up to be a great chef and thank me for it endlessly (and call me for 5 star meals?)

Wrapping paper’s squashed into a ball. Kids had a fight with it. Store is closed! I read somewhere you can iron out wrapping paper. Yippee! Plug in the iron.

Try to tear the price tag off the cooking set – a chunk of the box peels off. Aaargh!

Iron the wrapping paper and it works! Something’s going right. No wrinkles – just that bit in the centre left – press the iron harder – and – gosh – a great big burn! No, no, not now!

‘Mamaaaaaaa!’

Swaddle the peeling plastic cooking set in the burnt wrapping paper. Try to cut off the darned cello tape and it starts sticking to everything but the paper. To the scissors, to the iron, to my fingers.... to my teeth (don’t ask!)

Maybe I can cover the gaping hole with the gift card? Nope, too small. There’s a magazine lying around with a big ad for Eurokids. Have a brainwave! Cut out the beaming kids in the ad and stick them over the burnt hole. They don’t cover it. Cut out a teddy bear’s head and add it. There! Done!

‘Mamaaaaaa!’

Go running down the stairs and fling the gift at Neel poised at the door, who catches it expertly and if he wonders why he has a slippery parcel with a Eurokids ad and beheaded teddy bears on it, he doesn’t ask.

Neel is never invited to this particular boy’s birthday party ever again!

Happy Birthday, Nikash

Today, my baby turns 3. Your grandmother has given you a big red car to ride around in. Dipika Mummy gave you a fabulous shirt-jeans combo. Many people will come and give you lovely gifts. And you will be thrilled, but wonder why Mama didn’t give you anything.

I'm giving you what I've got (but not my stash of chocolates hah !) :

Clouds : Your first playschool complaint came in. Your teachers told me while all the other children sat to study, you were wandering around in your own world. I told her, So Am I. Lost in my own world. In the clouds. It’s a beautiful place to be. It’s where the dreams come out of. And life, without those dreams, is F-all !

Bump on the head : You jump off the cabinet, fall, get a bump on your head, cry, and then go jump again. I can't stop you. I have scars on my knees that I got from falling off cycles, and skates, and walls. If there’s a wall, you gotta climb it, Niks. If there’s a sofa, you gotta jump off it. Getting hurt is tons better than living scared.

An orange grape : I asked you the other day what colour the grape is. You said it’s grape-colored. Who said it should be purple? Other people? Books? Teachers? It’s your life, and don’t let anyone else tell you how to live it. (Not even me). Go ahead and be different. Stay honest. And become whatever colour grape you want to.

ok then - some chocolate : Most of all, I want to give you the promise that you are loved. So so sooooo much. And please never be afraid to love back. Go ahead and do anything you want. As long as you don't hurt anyone else. And if you hurt yourself ? There will be a bandaid and a cup of hot chocolate whenever you get home.


And yeah – I’ll try not to call you Baby any more. OK, Pup ? :)