My Daughter Wrote me Yet Another Story

Only the other night when I told my daughter A Dreamy Story, she was more fascinated by the fact that we would be taking drum classes together rather than the story itself. Point to self -- stories to her have to be written with more ease. Too much of personification, like many cooks, often spoil the broth. But the next morning was a Sunday, and C had no 'homewok', so I asked her to help me make breakfast. As she spread butter on the toast, made a smiley with the sauce and a moustache with the chilli sauce, I understood I never paid much attention to her being father-less. The face was dipped well in the poached yolk and had over her many demands and plans of how to spend a Sunday. The earlier fact was bothering me, and her pitch was interfering, so I asked her to write it all down, "go and write it, Chinks, then we will spend Sunday exactly like that!" Tomorrow is another Sunday, and what better to down on a Saturday than the pleasure of the last weekend? Here it is:

Momie,

Agen I rite you laytaa to tell you stori of how to spen a sunde. One didi tol in bus that sunde is good to eat ice-cim which I never eat. So number one we go out after sampoo and have sunde. Neha tol me it is foun in mack donaal. I don like yolo joker sitting outside of mack donaal. You weya new skaart with side-kaata and naaic shirt. I wear hot pant with grin bunny t that Granny D gave me. We sit in car and you daaiv and we song lissen and come to maac donaal. After sunde we go to Naani hous and have sedhho bhaatu and egg. Then you sleep and I pull leaf from backside garden. Momie! There no  jiraaf live. Jiraaf in our garden. I watch catoon and then we come back home in car. Momie today we bring something for Tucksh. I want to give him clip becaus his hair coming to his eye. I have twonti rupis Grany-D give me. With that I buy and after that you and I paint the wall in the outside. We two wear hot pants. I have many coloh Momie, so no need to bye new colohs. We will not watch TV and sing with FM. Then we finis wall, I draw claauds Momie! And you draw box. And we take bath togetha! Then we eat maggi and one more chip which you will bye me. I drink horlix and you drink whooiskey and you tell me stori and then we sleep. Tucksk sleep in the down. Because outside wall is new and he is afred and I will tell him no-no Tucksh, no afred! So he sleep with us. But only if he wear clips and no do too much bhow-bhow-bhow. I will put injecsun. I know where you keep your injecsun when you feel ink in your pen. Our wall will have claaud and many stars and sun. Moon also! And Momie you will draw Jerry. Jerry will jump from sun to moon hahahahahaha. We draw clip in Jerry tail also. Then Tucksh have clip-fend. He chuz my pencil Momie! I don't do! Ok. This is sunde I want. Now I will gib you and you have to gib me. Two-two sunde Momie! Kissie, C.

It is sad to know you aren't always accepted well; it is to be thought of absences that find their presence on toasts; but when you have such a story in your purse, how many Sundays are we ready to face? The week that was, was. The week that is going to be, will be. Somewhere in between, I will read these chits full of atrocious spellings and smile. No. I don't need any more convincing. We have a Sunday to us! The only concern is, how C too is rapidly willing to do everything, but her 'homewok'. Oh I almost forgot to mention! She came up to me, this chit in hand. Each line written in different coloured sketch pens, pulled my t-shirt, and looked up at me with the puppiest of eyes, "Momie take your sunde!" Sorry, Sunday.