Now don’t get me wrong. I love my boy. In fact, you could say quite a large part of my life revolves around him. I do let him get away with quite a lot. Lately though, we are on a waring path. Main reason? Showering.
See these days, he insists he is a big boy and he will not have mummy give him a bath. That sounds like something to celebrate no? Well, NO! It would be something to celebrate if he was doing a good job of it, if at all. I get the feeling I am not the only mummy of a boy who has nearly given up on strict shower rules. He is like a cat where water is concerned. In fact the other day, he looked at me straight in the eyes and announced that he thinks he has water allergies. I know! That’s not all. Sometimes he will decide that since I don’t clean my hair every day, then he shouldn’t. Don’t forget, this is a very active boy, who not only will play soccer every chance he gets, but will also decide that he is not too old for the sandpit.
All is not lost however. I am not beyond playing the mummy card and I have declared that, till I am happy with his bathing habits, every Sunday is mummy and me bath time. What does this mean? It means that I will escort him to the bathroom, sit and watch him shower, and clean any part of him that I deem unclean.
Oh don’t worry. I am not overdoing it. I doubt he will even allow me to sit in for the first time. He has countered my deal with; He will shower and I get to inspect all places that get ignored. Head, arms, and back of the neck. I think that’s a pretty good deal, don’t you think? After all, we do not want him to feel powerless. Plus, we are trying to hone his negotiation skills.
I know what you are thinking…. Which century was this one born? Well, rest easy. It’s actually this century…. I think…. Moving on!
Once there were these hot radios and TV shows that used to entertain us to no end, and as I keep saying, those days were good days. Not much of choice, so we learnt to appreciate and savor every morsel of entertainment we got.
Then there was the Saturday night music with… was it John Karani? The highlight of my week. Believe me, it was a big deal. How big a deal? Try 2 200 page book full of words of my favorite songs. When this show came, even mother knew not to interrupt me. I was not going to get sent for a glass of water and I was willing to have canning reserve rather than miss this show.
That book was my bible. More treasured than my novels or language books, which were my life. I would not shed a tear if I lost any of my novels (p.s. Anyone out there still holding my novels, better bring them back before I come collecting. You know I wrote your names in my black book..) but if I lost my Songs book, heads were going to roll. I still keep that book. Yes, I’m sentimental like that, I even have my love letters tucked away somewhere. Story for another day, I promise.
My love for lyrics did not disappear with the onset of the evil that became the internet. Unfortunately, I had to evolve. Adapt as they say. So my 200 page book became a folder on my computer with hordes of lyrics. What?!! I love singing along! No, I shall not get into a karaoke bar. The singing happens in the bathroom, mostly with my headphones on, but singing along all the same!
It’s not as fun as it used to be in those days when there was fighting of who reserved the right to listen to the radio on certain nights (don’t worry, Saturday night was always reserved for me), or listening to John Karani repeat a line twice and me writing at lightning speed – and I was good – but they are still lyrics, and I shall continue collecting them for as long as my eyes can see and should old age upset my eye balance, I shall guilt my young boy into searching and reading the lyrics for me. I have been told which gem of statements to learn to use on him and he shall be doing my bidding for a long time.