Where's my mommy

Well, well well….if it isn’t you again.

Keep coming back don’t you. But now that you are here, might as well give you something to while away your time {I know I certainly am}.

I’m sure all of us at one time or the other have, in our childhood mistaken somebody else for our mothers. That perhaps, is the beginning of your abandonment issues {call my psychiatrist, its discount rate for friends and family, I’m a good customer}.

Anywho, you realize that all this happens only because we, as kids, don’t give a damn really. We’re to firkin busy looking at the He-Man’s and the Barbie’s and fantasizing {about imaginary friends, you sick bastard}. You’re too busy too care until, of course, you want to buy something or in the words of my grandma “en nu bhukh lagi hai, ya ninder ayi hai” , in other words, you’re either sleep, hungry or cranky; so you look for mother dearest.
And here’s the kicker - you can’t find her cause you too wee to look up and see their faces and God really did not give us a fashion sense to remember what mommy dear was wearing {damn Tommy Hillfiger}. So you do the next best thing, you go by leg length and width {and if mama was big, it was easier} and eventually you latch on to the first pair of legs you think meet your standards {which was - good looks}. But whatever the reason, you find yourself crying, not because it’s the wrong woman but because it’s the wrong woman in front of whom you’ve made an ass of yourself {it would have been less traumatic is someone told us that we get many chances to do that in our adult life}.

And just as strange lady is about to buy you an ice cream, MOMMY appears {how do they do that, maternal instinct?} and there goes your ice cream, just when mommylessness was turning into a good thing.

But, before I forget, the reason that I mention this is because a good friend of my dad went shopping with his family. Now, Micky uncle is quite a sharp fellow, very witty and very funny but a bit zonked at most time.

Carrying on, Micky uncle was standing in one shop when his wife and one daughter moved on. He didn’t realize and kept looking around and started {to the amazement on his younger daughter, who was still there} to talk to a strange woman about dry fruits. As he turned around, he saw his daughter staring at him, about to break into laughter; when he swung about, looked at the strange woman and said, “Darling, I’m going to the other shop” and walked out as if nothing had happened.

Enough whiling away, I have work to do and I’m sure you do to.