Posted in meow, parenting

Bunny in a burlap sack

In the world of parenting, sometimes you are fortunate enough to predict what is about to hit you incessantly for the next twenty years of your life, a breeze or a storm (After twenty, it would hopefully be someone else in the receiving end – read boyfriend/partner).

In my case it is a storm, and a strong one at that. Today is when I got it confirmed, officially registered, stamped and all that.

Meow desperately wanted to flaunt the new pair of pants I got her last weekend; a neon yellow capri she picked herself at the local Max store. Picking neon yellow at two is justifiable but I sincerely hope she grows out of her neon fetish. The last thing I want to see in her is my erstwhile mother-in-law’s gene glaring at me with horns and a pitch fork.

She expressed her desire for the third time in 10 minutes and it was a warning. When ignored she would break into tears and throw a tantrum the size of a hot air balloon. So I brought the capri, placed it on the couch and went to fetch a T-shirt. Well ahead of my return, she had started rolling on the floor with the pants trying to wear them all by herself. She is mostly successful with the denim or cotton pants but this one was lycra.

I tried to help her out. She cried “No no no no” at the top of her voice and gave that look which meant “I can handle this myself.”

Two minutes later, she came to me hopping like a bunny in a burlap sack. She had managed to squeeze both her legs into a single leg in the pant and was hopping to Momma for help.

I gave her the “I told you so” look and helped her out.

This is officially the first time she showed her “I know everything” face and then came running back for help. Experts like my grand mother say, this wouldn’t be the last.

High time I started shopping for those Armani wind breakers and Stag umbrellas.

P.S. This post is in response to the Discover “Opening Line” challenge.

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