If you know me well enough, you would know that each time I refer to the “Munchkin” I am talking about the little 2ft, 4-year-old individual in my house who I am answerable to. He is the ultimate ball of energy, chief negotiator, dodo warrior, commander in chief of the house and one of the greatest geniuses of our time…. none other than my little boy.
One of the best things in the world is getting home to his running patter of feet just to wrap his arms around my legs in a hearty welcome, if you are a parent, you should know that nothing beats that feeling. The excitement is just crazy; he practically goes into an excited frenzy to welcome either his Dad or myself………that’s the best part of my day……like totally AWEMAZING.
Then we settle down to talk about his day, conversation around what he did at school, if he finished his food, if he had been good or naughty, if he pooped and if the poop was big one or little one.........yeah really gross, disgusting interesting conversations between us.
Well, I got home a few days ago to his wonderful welcome before I stepped into the mayhem of chaos that he had succeeded in turning the house to with his toys.
Optimus Prime and Bumblebee were somewhere over the TV, next his set of “Cars” characters were all over the floor ready for the unsuspecting victim to either trip over or slide on. Next were his other racing cars, trucks, train and yet more cars (He loves anything with wheels and speed)
I took in the sight then looked into his brown twinkling excited eyes
“Well done” I started, “you have made a good mess in the house as usual but now we have to put away your toys”.
He looks at all the toys, gives me a look, cocks his head to one side and with all the seriousness and understanding a 4-year-old could muster responded back……” I don’t think that is a good idea Mummy”
My ears practically stood like that of a dog as my eyes widened in between astonishment, shock and amusement……
“Oh really” …… I chorused “Since when did you start giving ideas”
“But mummy, it takes a long time to get them out of the bag…. that's why…. that's why I put them all out so I can get them easily when I want them like this…he motions to demonstrate picking up “Lightning Mcqueen”
I understood his dilemma and then started to explain why we had to clear all the toys away.
At the back of my mind, I remembered a distant memory of a scene similar to this one.
I was 7 years old and a bubbly, gangly, active talkative……. Boy oh boy…… I could talk for Nigeria but I was also very creative when it comes to my hands.
I loved to knit and had all sorts of knitting weapons……if you are familiar with those pins, you would know why I call them weapons.
I was fond of starting a pattern without completing it, thereafter I would delve into another pattern and would litter my room and the entire house with pins, wools, and different patterns. It used to drive the whole house nuts trying to wade through my wool and patterns.
One day, I had 5 different balls of wool and patterns in the living room and my mum had instructed me to pack them all into the knitting bag.
I picked up the first two, took them to the room and got distracted……………. Strike 1:
Some moments later I heard her call again and rushed to the living room to pick up the last three. I took them all to the room but left out the last one which I was working on. Then my brother called me to the living room for a show and I picked up my knitting wool and pin and off I went to the living room….
I remembered knitting and watching TV for some time but how I forgot and left the wool, pin and patterns to stray outside was beyond me…. the mind of a child….
Next thing I remember was my Mum’s angry voice…….it was like a fast-forwarded movie but picture the next events in 3d slow motion.
Next, a life-changing, wonder-working, mind renewing slap landed on my back (aka resounding abara)
The type that leaves you leaping not with joy, this kind of leap comes with a cry or shout but with common sense that sets you back to default.
I took off into the house trying to soothe the pain in my back while grabbing my balls of wool and other jagbajantis to race into my room in tears. I could hear my Mum's raging voice as my aunty tried pacifying her.
Later I got to know that my elder brother sat on my knitting pin and received a nasty jab to his thigh.
I shook my head as I brought myself back from my reverie while the munchkin picked the last of his toys.
“So sweety" I started, "you don’t leave your toys out like this, you could hurt someone or break something”
“Ok mummy”, he agreed and scampered off to play.
The following day, I walked into the house with no munchkin to welcome me and the unmissable crack on the 50 inches T.V screen.