Kids

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man's struggle with his kid...

Submitted: December 18, 2014

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Submitted: December 18, 2014

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She wouldn’t stop crying.  There must be a switch on her somewhere that made her cry, and for some reason it was stuck on ‘On’.  She kept going on and on and on and on and on and… I began to be aware of people who were starting to get annoyed by the siren emanating from this kid.  Though she is beautiful, she is also very clever.  She knew that if she did this for long enough I would stop trying to spoon-feed her this sweet mushy apple substance that Tameena had prepared for her. 

 

This was not how I envisaged spending my weekend.  Weekends are meant for escapism, relaxation… a chance to unwind and appreciate life and all that it has to offer… again.  But it’s been four years since I last had that feeling.  It goes once you’ve had your first child.  Weekends are now about responsibility, cleaning, relatives and Saturday night American comedy shows on the telly.  And when you have your second child you have the added responsibility of being a peacemaker. 

 

She was still refusing to eat this lush, sweet mushy apple stuff.  I don’t know why, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever eaten.  The way it sits in your mouth and envelope your tongue teasing it with it’s sweetness.  Why the hell doesn’t Tameena pack me some?  I’d eat some right now if there weren’t other people around.  Men don’t eat baby food, full stop! 

 

So I tried doing the aeroplane trick, playing games, making eating fun.  She let the spoon land in her mouth and then… she pressed the seat-eject button and it landed on my new Versace shirt.  I bought it as a treat for myself, something nice to wear for the weekends.  The fabric and cut feels nicer than the cheaper high street brands that Tameena always gets me.

 

I gathered my belongings and picked Sonal up out of the baby high chair and walked out of the McDonalds eating area, leaving behind my cold half uneaten fillet-O-fish and french-fries.  I started to look for the baby changing area but all I could see were shops and people.  I looked up and was blinded for a split second by the sun piercing through the glass ceiling. 

 

I walked down a little further aware that there was still some of that lovely apple stuff soaked into my shirt.  The white Versace label was now a little green.  I looked up and saw a sign pointing towards some toilets.  The men’s, women’s and kids changing room were all in the same direction.  I just headed towards there while Sonal’s small soft hands were caressing my face.  I didn’t mind that.  I started to mind it though when her finger started to wonder up my nose.  Instead of stopping and getting a better hold of her I started to walk faster and just went straight into the first set of grey doors with a white sign on it.  She had dislodged my glasses off my nose… they were just hanging from my face. 

 

I sat her near a sink and put my glasses on properly.  I looked at her and grabbed a tissue and soaked it a little and wiped Sonal’s face.  I then got another tissue soaked that and started to get as much of this stuff off my shirt as possible.  Then I heard someone say something and I turned around…

 


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