'Ai, can I please have tea instead of milk today?' asks my kid.
'May I please finish this book? I am on the second last page.'
'You read, I will make the tea.'
'You don't know how to make tea.' I say.
'I do. I know how to make tea.'
'Good for you. Now shut up and let me read.'
'Ai, can I please make tea? Please, please...'
'Ok, but be careful.'
Before I read another paragraph, I hear ominous sounds. I can see the kid dragging a stool inside the kitchen.
'Ai, how much water and how much milk and how much tea and how much sugar?'
'One cup water and milk, each, and two spoons of tea leaves and sugar. You need help?' I yell.
'No, Ai. Please, don't come in the kitchen!'
'Yes, Ai, I am careful. Please don't come inside the kitchen.'
I try hard to get back in the book, but I am overcome with curiosity. I stealthily get up and take a peep. He is standing on the stool, bending over the kitchen slab, pressing the tea-leaves in the sieve with a spoon to get the last drop of tea in the cup. I tip-toe back to the drawing room.
'Is the tea ready?' I yell.
'Yes, I am getting it. Please don't come into the kitchen.'
'Don't you worry, son. Why should I come into the kitchen?'
And he comes out, balancing two cups in his little hands. Its too milky, too sweet, but its a cup brimming with bliss. And his smile matches mine.
Growing up can be so beautiful.