And that, my friends, was my weekend

The weekend started rather well. Saturday morning was the Parent Teacher meet at the brat's school. I would have been quiffing the spirits on the sly in the bathroom to work up enough Dutch courage to make it to the school, and grin inebriatedly through the whine session that I knew was lined up for me. But, I was delighted to find I was made of sterner stuff. And it also helped that I had been tossing and turning all night restlessly, so the husband knew it was something I was really looking forward to, like multiple root canals, and volunteered to hand hold me through it. Have I ever said how much I love this man? No? Well, saying it loud and clear here.
But given that for the past three years, I have been the luckless one going to these meetings on my lonesome ownsome, the rest of the parent gang were quite taken aback at the fact that I was finally escorted by spouse. I think some of them even had the vague suspicion that I was a scarlet woman pretending to have one, given that the husband has not fluttered near the school gates too, ever since the admission form was submitted.
Of the meeting itself, it went off better than expected. The conclusion being the teacher is going to work out why the brat is so terrified of her (any guesses?) and work harder with him, and try to give him some TLC. What more could I ask?

I have been working harder with him too. To his stomping on the floor disgust. I guess, I'm overdoing things a bit too. Making him count the number of mugs of water I'm dousing him with during a bath might be considered taking things too far.

As compensation for my ruthless educational overdrive, I have been extremely indulgent. Read, bribes are being offered left right and centre. Therefore we have new Ben 10 Tshirts. A new Ben 10 sipper. A birthday outfit bought much in advance by indulgent Dadi comprising, orange corduroy jacket and white pants. I just need the right white shoes, and a Sridevi with some pots in the background to complete the imagery.

And the most precious purchases of them all? A trip down Lokhandwala market which yielded the much sought, sobbed for, thirsted for, yearned for, bargained for and rolling on the floor tantrum causer, the Spiderman costume. And for good measure, and since it happened to be there at that point, Mamma picked up a Batman costume as well. The brat was kept waiting in the car, it being a rainy day, while Mamma hopped into the store to pick up said costumes. The expression, when the bags were investigated and costumes revealed was worth a photograph. If lightbulbs could shine under skin, this would be that moment. "Lesh go home," he cheeped, holding onto the plastic bag for dear life, refusing to part with it for even a second.
Mamma, being Mamma, had other plans which included prosaic things like buying crockery, laundry bags and other such sundry essentials that keep a home running smoothly. But brat would have none of it. "Cmon we go home."
"Why, beta, wait for a little while. Mamma has to finish some work."
His face darkened to match the thunder clouds squalling above. "I have work also. I have to climb the wall now."

So we went home where costumes were changed at the frequency of one million rpm. Which basically meant that Mamma sat in attendance till her butt cramped into stone, changing the brat and his ensemble close on one million times, and watching the action figure come to life. Some running around in the corridors done with best friend from next door, all of six but infinitely better behaved than brat, who also dug out his Spiderman costume in a show of solidarity, so we had two Spidermen racing on their scooties through the long passage we have between the flats in this building.

Sunday was as lazy as it was supposed to be. We skulked at home. Mamma glaring at the Pappa who refused to be parted from his Robin Sharma. Brat refusing to be parted from his Spiderman and Batman costumes.

At approximate eight pm, the realisation dawned on Batman incarnate that school day loomed ahead, and he pronto developed a crunched over tummy ache that one dispensed with a timely bribe of a bit of chocolate which resulted in an instant cure. Maybe Mamma should patent it and sell it to them gastrointestinal experts as a miracle cure. Cadbury Dairy Milk.

In the night, Mamma and brat lay back for an extended book reading session, where the spellings of such exciting words like Potty, su su and such like were discussed to much giggling and chortling.

"Mamma, if p-o-t-t-y is potty, then t-o-t-t-y is totty?"

"Yes, son," replied Mamma who could feel her snores breaking through her replies.

"And m-o-t-t-y is motty?"

"Yes, zzzzzzz," replied Mamma.

"B-u-m is bum? And s-u-m is sum?" enquired the newly scatalogical spelling bee winner.

Mamma had a flashing vampire like zen thought. Maybe she should convert all the sight words into scatalogical rhymes. Would guarantee a perking up of interest in said syllabus.

And yes, we slept in the Spiderman costume. No doubt we were web slinging through the night in REM colour.