Kids are cute. When they are not hungry,
wailing, speed-crawling over your favourite shoes (and then chewing on them), or generally getting on your last nerve, they are most adorable. I know several
cute and adorable kids, who have grown up (in size) to stay the same.
One slow, weekday afternoon, we gathered on the
mezzanine floor at the office for lunch. We’re one big, happy family when it comes to
lunching. Everyone’s dabbas are up
for grabs, lots of arms fly around, and one rarely leaves the table
dissatisfied. But our animated banter is the only thing that comes close to the
awesome food.
So on that day, all of us randomly started
discussing embarrassing things we did as kids. While some shared personal experiences,
others told stories of their children – the kids of today. And then suddenly,
in between fits of laughter, someone suggested that I blog about it.
I was a cute and adorable kid; and in most
respects, I still am. (I’m only taking the liberty to say this because my
mother couldn’t be bothered with this blog and you’ll never know what she has
to say. Hah!). Today, as I look back at my years of tender innocence, I
whole-heartedly blame my brothers for the slight traces of bratty behaviour.
Ok, not so slight: I couldn’t stand Barbie dolls, I loved Lego and I spent most of my childhood
under a bob cut. Thanks to this major identity crisis, bruised knees were my
favourite accessories for the longest time.
By the time I was ten, I had fractured my ankle,
managed to stick a pencil in my eye, broken my arm and ripped my chin open (and
tried to blame it on someone else: Scarlett, I’m sorry. It wasn’t you, it was
me). I was also tied to a bench in the 3rd grade (Sister Angela, I
will find you one day...), and had managed to stroll away with a stranger, mistaking
him for dad, at Jogger’s Park. (In my defence, what a silly
stranger! I did not look like his son! Oh wait, the bob cut...)
Anyway, I was my parents’ personal hell. But
after that lunch conversation I realised that most kids are. And whether you
like it or not, you were too. Kids are crazy and they do crazy things. This
series of posts, which will be updated three times a week for the next three
weeks, is a tribute to crazy kid stories. So share any funny/crazy story you
have. The grosser the better!
Love,
A crazy kid.
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Does
this child belong to anyone?
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