My Daughter's Diary

From her stay with her favourite granny, C brought home a handful, if handful were ever a measure of what is immeasurable, innumerable and bag-popping. The granny in context is a serious mad woman, renowned for her professional progress and unprofessional, unconditional love which never recognized bloodline. I cannot begin to list the things which comprised the five letter word, tucks. We have a golden retriever by that name by the way, derived from Tucker. Size -- same as C. She was sadly, and dutifully dropped home to me last night, and though she was super sad at having to let go of her mad Granu, she was even more excited to show off her loot to me.

She got a new Simba & Nala school bag, filled with a Sinchan tiffin box (trust D not to have any standard about the animation generation), which was further filled with a packet of dates and one of roasted cashews. I am going to thug it sometime soon. They would complement the Laphroaig I have just opened, well. The bag also had a grave green handmade paper notebook on which Granu had pasted the uneven letters "MY DIARY", taken from monochrome newspaper and glitzy magazines. It also had a translucent Bambi pencil bag, needless to say filled with many pencils, red and black stripes, pink flowers on white, solid colours. Were I given such a gift in my childhood, I would be in a state of happy shock for so long that I would not move on to sharpen them. Her new sky blue Adidas bag (with three fluorescent stripes) was brimming too -- with storybooks, magic colour books, a new box of 64 sketch pens from Faber (at this point I am severely angry with D) and chewing gum, and chips and all such things which delight a child to the core. Another way of putting it by replacing the word delight with spoil.

However, what pacified me this morning was when I was rummaging her loot and settling them down on her desk (oh yes, she has a separate one for herself, complete with a chair; which she, like her Mommy, hardly uses), was the green notebook. I opened it because it bulged with one of the new sketch pens inside it. The page was a mess quite obviously with felt colours on handmade papers. She wrote nine lines in nine different colours. Here goes:

1 (red): This is my green copy.

2 (dark blue): This is my blue pen.

3 (light green): I am riting.

4 (yellow): Tucksh is eating chips wich i gave him to tayst.

5 (orange): I have many gift wich i will take to school on Monde.

6 (sky blue): I study in Obon Haaus.

7 (dark green): Granu sho me Layen King cinema. wow.

8 (black): Mom and i see many movie in big size and eat popcon.

9 (violet): Mom rites with compewtur i rite with pen.

I would like to mention, of all the mistakes my daughter made in spellings, I forgive her for the name of her school. It is ridiculous to name one "Auburn House". But it is a good one. And I have no idea if kids her age can write better, but I am glad she does so without me hankering after it. I will not make public her other further entries, without her permission. I am gladder she does not play on my mobile phone, so what if that means engaging in foreboding and reflective conversations with poor Tucker.  

Madness is inherited, that is all I can conclude.