I wonder if you've ever come across the personified, in-the-flesh human version of a natural disaster. She's a common feature in my household. Glinting with a malevolent little twinkle in them, her nine year old beady eyes constantly dart from one corner to the other, looking for things to put out of place. In a way, she's a blessing in disguise (very heavily disguised). How? Well, let's just say that all the rooms in the house get a good and thorough check up for anything that may catch her eye, be it make up accessories or stationary items. It's almost like Spring Cleaning happened early!
Just like any natural disaster (coincidentally, we've nicknamed her Tsunami), it's the calm before the calamity strikes that brings about the anxiety around us, forcing every member of the family to chip in when it comes to hiding everything breakable, mouldable, edible (saccharine, not savory) and paint-able from her line of sight. Her nimble fingers, wiry limbs, poker straight hair that falls to her chin and skeletal frame quite often make me wonder if she just jumped off of one of the pages from "Oliver Twist"! She's adept at christening anything that finds her fancy, ranging from my eye-liner to my grandmother's watch, as her's, irrespective of whether she was told not to take others' things, or not.
I wouldn't call her a bad child, after all, with a mother who teaches eight year olds for a living, I've come to accept the fact that in the real world, minuscule signs of kleptomania, ADD and destructive behaviour in children, are actually signs of a happy childhood. I wonder if that makes me abnormal... Anyway, I would instead call her just another nine year old girl made of sugar and spice (in the ratio 1:4).
Just like any natural disaster (coincidentally, we've nicknamed her Tsunami), it's the calm before the calamity strikes that brings about the anxiety around us, forcing every member of the family to chip in when it comes to hiding everything breakable, mouldable, edible (saccharine, not savory) and paint-able from her line of sight. Her nimble fingers, wiry limbs, poker straight hair that falls to her chin and skeletal frame quite often make me wonder if she just jumped off of one of the pages from "Oliver Twist"! She's adept at christening anything that finds her fancy, ranging from my eye-liner to my grandmother's watch, as her's, irrespective of whether she was told not to take others' things, or not.
I wouldn't call her a bad child, after all, with a mother who teaches eight year olds for a living, I've come to accept the fact that in the real world, minuscule signs of kleptomania, ADD and destructive behaviour in children, are actually signs of a happy childhood. I wonder if that makes me abnormal... Anyway, I would instead call her just another nine year old girl made of sugar and spice (in the ratio 1:4).
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