Uncontainable joy.
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| Sheila, my niece |
Sometimes I have difficulties believing that this is the same bundle of joy I found at home from school. I waited at the bedside for hours just so that she would open her eyes. She would smile and cry in her sleep looking so fragile that I feared hurting her, just by touching those chubby little fingers. She would stare at her hands hours on end that is if, they weren't stuffed in her mouth. She would then gift me with this to-die-for toothless grin. My heart would swell!
This bundle of joy wrapped up in shawls that I feared would slip out of my arms unto the floor and hence someone had to practically place her carefully in my arms and while seated.
Now, years later has turned into a bundle of uncontainable energy arousing emotions I never knew I had. I love her so much that she can (mis)use my make up all she cares and use up my data bundles sending to her mother WhatsApp emoji to infinity.
She's now giving me orders and demanding tamus. Giving me free exercises running after her. Just for the records, my alert senses have never been better. What of being conscious around and about her?
Picking toys after her and getting these dolls away from the couch just to catch your breathe. The house is turned upside down you would be forgiven to mistake the living room for a little zoo.
There is this unsolicited help around the kitchen that leaves quite a mess so bad that you want to scream the heavens down. All that evaporates into the air when you are treated to this sweet killer smile that you scoop her in your arms and head for the bathroom to clean up. (This is something only mothers would understand.)
Oh! I have subscribed to free but forced ABC classes that have long replaced the photo frames and calendars. Today, every available wall at home bears a trail of chalk, charcoal or crayons the gate isn't spared either. No amount of beating could stop her until her grandpa demanded that we just let her be. Soon enough she will outgrow it he said. I'm still waiting... Patiently!
She will make you recite the alphabet loudly playing teacher, writing numbers that always head south or draw a creature or a shape which she'll then make you believe, it's you. You put this big show of congratulating her and even manage a hug and a few kisses. Inwardly, you are horrified to even think that the creature is actually you or if that's how she sees you.
She has another talent of recording everything around the home and everyone. She will later report to grandpa in the evening. Who went where, who visited whom, what did you have for lunch etc. She reports practically everything and precisely at that. She will make a very good journalist someday, I muse to myself.
Such are children, but don't we love and miss them? Why then do you keep smiling to yourself at their thought or stop by the store for some goodies on your way home? Gotcha! Please pass my sincere hugs and kisses to that little terror(s) in your house. And remember to say I love you!
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