Letter to Daughter XIX

Dearieplum-butterytoo-munchykins C,

Such an exhaustive exercise this -- figuring out a means to reach to the loft and get your suitcase of woolens -- but endearing nonetheless, especially when left out open under sun -- feels like you have suddenly turned silent under the comfort of the sun, lapping it up like the wonder of a finishing cone of popcorn. Your holidays are here and it is hectic to plan up a day of activities for you for all the time we aren't together. It is also slightly disturbing to leave you behind with your (child's) knife, as you play LEGO with carrot and cabbage -- and build a castle -- the thought of cleaning the mess of the house.

Seeing you on stolen work days makes me think if I were such an impediment too, and I would like to believe, no I wasn't. However, for the exclusive success you have had over conquering the knowledge of Roman numerals, I write to you, to keep you company for one such day when your toys aren't good enough for you. I would like to tell you of a recipe which you can share and a secret, which you cannot. 

Recipe:

I know what you do when I snore on Sunday afternoons, stuffing yourself with that horrible Nutella. So, next time, take a bowl and put two spoons of Nutella into it and beat it with a little warm water from your flaaksh and when it arrives at a smooth ribonny texture, put a spoon of milk-powder into it. You will see white volcanoes bubbling alive and spitting little white milk-lava into the chocolatey mass. Into this break your Snickers into little-little bite size and put in and decorate with the colours of Gems. Now, put this back in the fridge and come back to sleep thinking about how it will taste in your dreams. When you wake up, Momie will slice out your first cake and for all you know, it will taste like a picnik -- packed! You must remember that while creating this entire recipe, you must make sure that there is absolutely no sound -- even while you beat the Nutella mixture. I know darling this is tough and can be tiring, but this you must do for the Cake Gods to bless your first cake. Else their friends, the Maggi Gods will be unhappy too and never let you cook Maggi in more ways than one. And, if you fail in your attempts to do it noiselessly, honey, you can always come back under the blanket and sleep off to dream about the taste. Yes! That is the best part, even if you do not make it, you can still dream about it -- the carpetty silk taste of the warm cake, prepared by you little-little hands. If you do not sleep, however, the Cake Gods will also steal your (child's) knife and you can't make more shapes on clay. So, little one, why don't you simply give everything a rest and just come and sleep with Momie?

Secret:

I bet as I was beginning the recipe, you did not need any Good Cake Gods to be excited about doing something new. Here is (to my disadvantage) the good news. Even if Momie, or Cake Gods, or anyone, inhibits you from trying on/out something that you are excited about, just do not, yes DO NOT listen to them. So what if Cake Gods do not put your reference to Maggi Gods? Trust dear old Momie when she says that you can always win Maggi Gods' heart with your own mischief, and if they still do not, you will always have Top Ramen Gods' blessings. But never let your excitement dry down because someone scared you with Big Fat Lies or Bland versions of Truths. Taste failure if you must, but taste it first hand, like your Dream Cake. 

This, hotbun, was all I wanted to tell you. Life will always give you two options, completely different in their offerings. Overthinking will never help you decide. You want your knife, sleep. You want to bake the cake, you will have to find another time. That's a bit of this and a whole lot of that put in to disturb your innocent lapping up the winter sun and spilling orange seeds on knotty woolens. Hope you have a happy holiday season doing things you love doing!

I love you, even though at times I cannot take the sight of you!

Momie. Your Momie.