The preparation for dinner

Ann was particularly thrilled yesterday after school when she learned that we would have a guest from the US coming over for dinner.  We had talked to Ann about Molley Chechie, who had been a great host to us when we travelled to the US and why we would never match her wonderful hospitality. 

On the way back, Emili mentioned that we would not cook anything at home as we would be late after Ann’s guitar lessons.  Ann instantly grabbed the opportunity and assured me that we wouldn't be embarrassed if we leave the details of the party to her.  She added, “I know that you are not confident because you don’t trust me.”   “I have eaten more stuff from the restaurants in Kottayam than you, so would you let me choose the menu for today’s dinner?”  

Without waiting for our consent, she immediately started with the dessert, and suggested ‘Skillet’, her favourite place for pastries, cheese rolls, tarts and cakes.  

“Are you crazy?” Emili reacted sharply.  “I didn't ask you to order the dinner for you.”

I intervened before more emotions were let loose, “Would you be quiet for a moment.”   

I knew how intolerant Emili was to Ann’s subtle schemes to enjoy her savoury delights.  Before Ann could suggest places like KFC or Pizza Max in Kanjikuzhi, we stopped the car at the Barbecue Inn, long after Ann had rolled out of Amma’s lap to the backseat.

The morning blues

I wanted to wake up Ann quite early this morning, but she screamed, 

"Wouldn't you let me sleep a little late even on a weekend? 

Don't you know that I had a headache in school, for sleeping late on my project work?  I've had enough trouble with this school already and I don't want my teacher question me again on this?" 

I relented to her drowsy reasoning and withdrew. Emili was furious that I let her, but she wouldn't take the risk of interfering in it either.  And she conveniently blamed it on her morning chores.

I went back to the computer upstairs for some idling and face-booking after the breakfast. A short while later, I heard my brother-in-law (who lives in the neighbourhood) on the ground-floor talking at a high pitch to Ann. I thought she was up out of embarrassment, but only when I came down at noon, realised that she had no such feeble feelings, and did not compromise on her rights, on a weekend morning.  You know, she has this rare ability to carry on a logical conversation even half asleep.

Sitting on the edge of the cot she sighed, "After a long time I've had some decent rest, except for Joe uncle's shriek."  She complemented me for the rare display of common sense and respect for kids.

I am a 'Ten ways to be a Great Dad?' father, especially in the early hours of the morning when I need to shake my daughter ready for the 6.30 school bus. May be, I have settled into such a mode, after more natural methods have failed. To be frank, I have ample practical material for a good book on the 'difficulties of parenting'.

When I was a little absent-minded she always reminded me of her cousins struggling into the 8 O' clock Jeep, to the nearby school, and lets me know how disciplined and sacrificing her life has been.