Talkative Talkative Children

Brat just came back from school. After quickly whirling and twirling around the kitchen and churning out an acceptable evening snack (Schezwan Fried Rice and Orange Juice today), I shift my corpulence back into my humble workstation (the dining table with the laptop, some used A4 sized sheets and an overused bit of a pencil for making my futile notes) and hope to smuggle another 40-45 minutes before i have to drop Brat off for her Dance class and take Junior to the garden.

But turns out Brat needed to talk. She just needed to give me vivid details of the Recitation test held in school and as it turns out, i hear 'Aabadi se door, Ghane Sannate mein' at least 8-9 times, recited each time in a different fashion, imitating the hilarious styles of various over-excited pint sizes. All this, while i trying to ideate for an article i had to start writing for a new client, way too challenging for my limited IQ.

What kept atmosphere and decibel levels at home under control was the pledge i had put my hand painstakingly forward, and taken, just two days ago to be less of a monster and bit more motherly towards the hapless children.

And so the day passed, yet another day, with very little work done.

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