School mornings are lovely. I love waking up early- I love the routine of knowing you have a set number of things to do before you head out. By nature, I am not a creature of habit as such and I regularly demand that the universe throw in random elements of unpredictability my way, to make my own life difficult (read: interesting). So for me to be enjoying this is as much a surprise to me as it is to anyone else.
Nadi however IS a creature of habit much like his father. He loves the routine of knowing that after school, there is home with a TV and lunch and then a nap and then an evening at the park with friends or visiting Nanna or Khala or Dee’s. He loves knowing before hand what th plan is so he can savour the anticipation and excitement.
This morning, with a late night work hangover, I pressed the snooze button twice more than necessary and k took over the morning routine. After having dressed Nadi he left for work and I did the breakfast and all. Just as soon as we have successfully tick marked everything and are about to be on our way out the door, Nadi decides that he wants to change his clothes. “But you look nice” I explain. “No mama, Nadi wear red shoes and Puma T-shirt” Frantically my mind scrabbles for a location on these two, anticipating a full fledged refusal to budge if I could not deliver- did I fold it and keep it away? Was it in the wash? I must have been especailly good this last week because I found both things, right in front, slightly crumpled but good to be worn. Hurriedly we changed to Nadi’s melodious “Ahaaa, Nadi acha lag raha hai” and rished out the door, getting to school with minutes to spare.
On the way back after dropping him, I speed dialled k to inform him how painful and stubborn his son was, just lie his father- and as I finsihed the story, he asks “So he decided to change his clothes the minute you were walking out the door?” “Yes!” I exclaimed triumphantly, pleased that he could see the point so clearly. “You mean just like you do every time we have to go somewhere and your clothes ka colour does FEEL right?” he asks, quietly snickering. “Errm, yeaa…” I say, images of all the times when I have rushed back to the cupboard to hurriedly change a kurta or earrings or shoes suddenly popping up in vivid colour in my head.
I slam down the phone with dignity, with k still chucking on the other end.