Mirror, mirror on the wall

The two siblings were fighting. It's a time honoured way of sibling existence. It helps to pass the time and exercises vocal chords such that they can, in a pinch, in future call out to friends living on the sixth floor without any strain on themselves. Let us not worry at this point in time about the strain on neighbours. 

A friend who was talking to me on the phone at that very moment was exhausted by the cacophony caused by the various pleas that were tossed at me like a vegetable seller thrusting dhaniya patta onto a customer buying ripe tomatoes.

She finally asked me what the problem was. And I responded that the little one was whining about something or the other. My eminently sensible friend told me her son had been given a life lesson that if he whined, he would not get whatever it was he was pleading for. 

Very pleased with this strategy, I repeated this to my second born.  

I finally understood why a child is called father of man, when she responded, "That doesn't apply to me." Detailed questioning revealed why that was so. The logic was sound and irrefutable. She said "I'm not your son. So this can't apply to me. This rule is only for sons who whine."

Meanwhile a friend of mine messaged me to warn me of the dangers of writing about small appendages that men for some reason are inordinately proud of. Or rather that men would not be proud of because they were not quite large enough. She insisted that this applied to even fictional characters as someone could sue me claiming that I was describing him. 

I asked her innocently enough "Why?" 

To which her response was " I really don't know why they set so much store by it, but apparently it offends them."

I patiently explained to her that I meant, Why did she fear I would write about it?

She couldn't explain that. I think she imagines me as some sort of lascivious creature. 

One wonders really how the world views you.  Do they see you as you really are? Smart, sensible and well read? Or do they think of you as wild, out of control and quite weird?

I wonder if the sample size of people at home can be extrapolated to the world at large. 

My elder child worries that I will get arrested one of these days for what he imagines is my out of control road rage. Even more hilariously he thinks that he would have to bail me out. I managed to assuage his fears by telling him that he needn't worry and that I had a cousin who was a qualified and eminent lawyer who would get me out.

The little one also complained about my wild behaviour and about how I would get excited along the sidelines of tennis matches, exhorting her to win by enticing her with the reward of Maggie noodles. 

Only the man of the house thinks I'm perfect. Even though I can be slightly annoying as I'm a bit of a grammar Nazi, he always gives me credit and says that he learnt English at my feet. Not just idioms and phrases but even sentences. Specifically life sentences.