It was just another regular day when my maid
had just finished her cooking mandate and had left the kitchen the way I want
it to be. I entered with ten thoughts running through the lanes of my overused mind.
In there was one wired red flag alerting me to give breakfast to my six-year
old who had been trying to enjoy his one-month long vacation.
Peeping into the drawing room, I found him doing
his typical couch potato act. I sighed and pulled out one of his square shaped
purple colored plate. Placing two chapattis & some aaloo- shimla mirch sabji
on the side I gave it an unsatisfied gaze. In just another trail blazer second,
I had ideated on to also place two blobs of amul butter on top of the chapattis.
Now, I said to myself, it looks un-resistible! I smirked at my “bribe-enriched
breakfast” which will make my smarty pants have a “no talk” but, “just food” time
for the next twenty minutes.
With my good-at-it mother poise, I left to
deliver my winning platter to the little tummy which had waited with patience
for what it was going to see now. Bringing
the stool near the couch, I kept the pate on it and turned back, happy on marking
off the “give breakfast red flag” up there.
Entering the kitchen again, I was just about
to make that “start- your- day- at- work coffee” when I thought I had heard
myself being called. Ignoring my “instant on-call mom mind”, I got into
switching on the microwave to heat up the coffee. There again, as the plate
disk rotated to warm up my indigo cup, my ears twitched again. It was crystal, I
was being called “Mom”. Stopping the microwave mid-way I stepped into the
drawing room with high hopes of being asked for a glass of water.
There under the bright lit roof I could see
him sulking looking at the plate. Three little questions instantly popped up
there. One, are the chapattis too dry? Two, Is the subji too spicy for him?
Three, has he spilled the food on the floor? (He has this habit of feeling
guilty about it).
Under the influence of these three contexts, I
asked him “what is it?”
There
it came and shattered my good-at-it mother poise with all its might. Brooding
still at the plate, he said “Mom, I like not the Green but, the “Yellow
Capsicum”.
I
quietly picked up the plate, dropped all the green capsicum back into the pan
and handed over the plate again with not a word to utter.
A
little later, and that is today did I come to terms with the choice of a six
year old. I just googled about what is so special about a yellow capsicum? And
here is what I found.
Yellow Capsicums ~ more mature than green capsicums, yellow
capsicums have a fruity taste yet milder than their orange or red counterparts.
Yellow varieties taste fantastic grilled and add fantastic colour to
stir-fries.
That does sound like my smarty pants.
I am tickled as I end my post!
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