Conversations with a boy

As I was walking alongside a young boy of 4, who happens to be my offspring, he remembered the canopied lane that he had walked down before, dressed as a human-carrot, about three months ago. Says he, “Momma, we’ve been here before, haven’t we?”. I smiled at the thought of having that question posed to me after eons. Before I could answer, he quipped excitedly, “We came here on Halloween!” I grinned and said, “Yes, we did, and I am happy you remember that. But why do you remember that?” Says he, like any other child would, “Because I got so many candies.” Being one-of-those-parents who restrict sugar, I argued, “I didn’t let you eat any of the candies though.”

Now, the conversation took a turn. He said, “Momma, can we again have Halloween?” I laughed at this notion and asked, “Why?”. What he said made me laugh and proud at the same time. He said, “Because Momma, do you remember, we gave all the candies to the other kids who couldn’t get any because they didn’t have money to dress up and also because I want to dress up as Captain America.”  What a paradox he had unleashed! He wanted to give away his loot to the charity, and at the same time wanted to dress up as one of momma’s favourite superheroes to gather more candies, only to give them all away.

I went on to explain, trying to keep my burgeoning feelings at bay, that Halloween comes once a year. And then he again questioned, “Why?” Why, indeed! He reasoned, “I go to school everyday, not once a year. And school is fun. Halloween is also fun. Why can’t we have Halloween more often?” I have to admit, I agreed with him. But having been given the job of playing the bad cop, I reasoned, “Because if we have something very often, we would not enjoy it as much.” He simply said, “I would.”

I rest my case. Being right on so many levels, I had no will to squabble over the impracticality of the arrangement he proposed. I decided to instead humour him with a piece of candy, albeit the organic, fruity, home-made lousy kind, and changed the conversation to Captain America’s Vibranium shield, which, to my utter trepidation, he referred to as “wheel”. Oh life!


Reminiscing the neon hues,

The nettled melodies,

Enamoured with moonshine,

Zion was veridical.

With a twine tied underneath,

Robbed from the gazes,

The fever piqued.

Sweltering palms shivered,

Sighs whispered agonizingly,

On broken pinions,

The escape stifled with a simper.