I sat down for a while to relax on the park bench after my customary evening walk and exchanged smiles and a hi with a few familiar faces. Children were busy playing on the swings and slides, while some senior citizens were busy chatting. Amidst all this I noticed a young mother running after her toddler with a tiffin box in her hand. She was trying every possible trick to feed him. She took names of his favourite cartoon characters, made silly promises and even showed her anger and tried to coax him, but all her efforts to push some food into the child’s mouth went in vain. The mischievous boy kept running here and there and managed to escape the poor mother’s grip and trick every time. I became quite nostalgic at this sight and went down memory lane when my son was a little boy filled with all sorts of naughtiness, fuss and tremendous energy (to cope with a child’s energy is quite a task in itself). He never ate his food when told, was ready with new demands every time, and this was what compelled me to explore my creative side. He loved having eggs for breakfast but was bored within a day or two, so mom had to be ready with something interesting, and this brought egg and bread blocks into existence ( egg fried along with the bread and cut into squares ). In my house, the shape of the parathas changed daily as per the demand of my son; one day it was a fish parantha, the other day a cat parantha, even a mobile phone paratha (seriously!) was relished. Dal and rice was very boring for him, but became a delicacy once served like a cake with dal dripping just like chocolate. We even used to cut that rice and dal cake and sing the birthday song?. Khichdi and pulav had to be served in the form of little balls that were eaten with a fork. Even the fruits were not spared, they had to be cut into different shapes and sizes and served in a different way every time to have the privilege of being eaten by my little monster.
Despite all the hard work, both physical and mental, there was only one thing that relieved me, my child was at least eating healthy home-made food which was essential for his growth and development. As my son grew up, his preferences started changing in matters of food. He loved pizza, and lo! Mummy was ready with a roti pizza!
Now that my children are grown up, (my son is going to be a teen now) it doesn’t mean that mum’s job has become easier. Mummy has to brush up her magical culinary skills at all times. Even now, a whole lot of innovation can be seen in the food of my house, the only difference is that, now, rotis have become tacos, parathas have become frankies and so on. I enjoy every bit of my efforts as long as my children have a sumptuous meal. Nothing can make a mother happier.
O kid! Try and make the wildest excuse,
Mummy ka magic always rescues.
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