The offspring wandered into our bedroom at circa the hour one, switched off the lights and descended into the welcoming arms of Lethe, mouth agape, soft snores emanating. “Mamma,” he said, perching himself on my bed, looking to all purposes like one who has come with intent to declare war, “I am nod going to school tomorrow.”
I did the jack in the box act and sat up bolt and upright in the bed so swiftly that the blood was still rushing to catch up with my brain. “Why not?” I asked, as politely as I could, sure that there had to be some compelling reason for him to want to skip snack time and lunch recess hedonistic outbreaks. After all, weren’t those the main reasons to compel a tween to get into school, never mind the absolute drag of needing to attend class, take down notes and other such dreary things which should by rights be outlawed.
“I just don wantu go.”
His face, in the dim light, was a study in fifty shades of stubborn. I tried another tactic. “Tell me the reason why you don’t want to go, and if I feel it is genuine, you can stay at home.”
He plucked at my blanket with a dispirited hand, the wheels and cogs of his cranial circuitry debating furiously about whether to give me the true reason for his lack of desire to attend school the next morning. He finally gathered his courage into a ball and put his lips to my ear, after casting a wary eye at the pater who was snoring at ease, not being disturbed by the son declaring his intention to play truant from school the next day.
“I’m going to tell you kaan mein sun,” he hissed into my ear, causing the very unnerving tickling effect which unfortunately has me recoil in horror and ask him to speak up and speak loud, and so I did.
“I gottu give a presentation tomorrow fer culminating.”
Read the rest of the post here