childzilla I

staying up for soccer or anything else is all fine when you are not woken up at six in the bloody morning by an insistent four-year old with natural talent for pestilence. but if you are, then mindless violence seems to hold an enormous appeal. it magnifies by the second when the childzilla demands an orange icecandyand tea too.

i need to barf out my whole rant right now. wonder if it would sufficiently recreate the mid-week horror if i use a minimalistic style of writing. like saying this week began on a monday. strange people and ideas took up tuesday. then on wednesday, childzilla happened.

shrewd customer that she is, she fell back on her i-am-a-cute-little-baby-with-a-cuter-lisp till she got her presents. and then she morphed to her usual i'm-four-going-on-thirty-four self. she told her mother that she wanted a waxing, at which my absent-minded father responded by saying "i'll buy you candles", she also ticked off my brother for taking pictures when she was not looking cute enough and for getting her a skipping rope which she felt she is too young for, she smashed my play-dough lizard and told me i need to wear yellow dresses with flowers on them, stuck out her tongue at a visiting child next-door, picked up three more four-letter words from untraced sources, conned my mother AND father into giving her three ice-creams, and recounted innumerable tales of how she gets slashed with knives at school.the fluency with which that child lies left us all feeling dazed, though in our weaker moments we tried to convince the each other that she is imaginative. thankfully i left for work, which was another kettle of fish altogether. i thought wednesday couldn't turn any worser than it already was at one in the afternoon, but like in everything else i was wrong in this too.

anyway after i crawled back home, my work wardrobe was carefully scrutinised, every item in my tote strewn around ( and to give her credit packed back after intensely examined), i was subject to a half-hearted tantrum on the subject of jiggly-wigglies, and made to mockfight vampires till midnight, with proper karate-like moves and sound-effect. apparently three rounds of solid thrashing when the doting grand-parents were not looking hadn't been as effective as my sister would have wished it to be. she just confessed very unhappily that these days she can't summon up wits enough to win the much-advocated power-game with childzilla who leaves her two steps behind, at which my brother helpfully pointed out that she has never been very bright and was given the flick across the ear. both of them would like to believe they are poster children for efficacy of corporal punishment, and when i explained to them that looking at either of them now would leave people to conclude just the opposite, they fell back to bullying. BUT there is some sort of cosmic justice and France won, so that evens things out.

we are expecting childzillaII in january.