“Helllllloooooo! Welcome home , how was your day ?”
Second offspring dumps her satchel , in reply, and makes a beeline to the dining table and the orange squash kept there.
“What is for lunch?” A tired, breathless, red-faced-from-the-sun query.
First one has just emerged from the bathroom, water dripping down the chin, in between gulps of orange ,gives over-the-juice-glass-top-enquiring-look.
“Palak paneer and rajma.”
“Nooooo!” Groans one .
“Yesss”Another fist-pumps the air.
“Why? I made both your favourite foods here!” I protest.
“Mama , you can’t make two favourite dishes, It has to be one .” Some one offers teenage wisdom.
One sits tiredly, arguing , in a hypoglycemic haze; other has galvanized into action , helping herself to gargantuan quantities of rice and rajma.
Whoever said raising two children was easier than one , was either a moron or a con-artist.
Second offspring dumps her satchel , in reply, and makes a beeline to the dining table and the orange squash kept there.
“What is for lunch?” A tired, breathless, red-faced-from-the-sun query.
First one has just emerged from the bathroom, water dripping down the chin, in between gulps of orange ,gives over-the-juice-glass-top-enquiring-look.
“Palak paneer and rajma.”
“Nooooo!” Groans one .
“Yesss”Another fist-pumps the air.
“Why? I made both your favourite foods here!” I protest.
“Mama , you can’t make two favourite dishes, It has to be one .” Some one offers teenage wisdom.
One sits tiredly, arguing , in a hypoglycemic haze; other has galvanized into action , helping herself to gargantuan quantities of rice and rajma.
Whoever said raising two children was easier than one , was either a moron or a con-artist.
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