The brat and mamma happened to be at Crossword this afternoon. It is rare that mother and son visit a bookstore given the brat's penchant for running the minute mile whenever confronted by a book. Therefore the brat looked around in awe and wonder and searched high and low for the toy section, found it and began summarily gathering up all the toys his arms could hold and began moving towards the cash counter.
Mamma was flicking through the magazines on display to check what of what she had written had been published this month.
"Whachyu're lookin fer?" The brat poked his face into the magazine as I flipped to the page and found me byline in all caps bold.
"Read this," I told him.
"Kiran Manral," he read. His eyes widened.
I picked a couple of other magazines and flicked through them too, a necessity given that contributors are never sent copies.
"Look here, see this," I pointed out some more Kiran Manrals spattered on pages.
The brat's face lit up with delight. He grabbed me round the waist and hugged me hard.
"Mamma," he said, his pitch high with excitement.
"I'm so proudofyou!"
He hugged me tighter. "You are suchaclevergirl!"
For once mamma didn't mind him using her words back at her.
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