Monkey love

Monkey is a spoilt brat. I adore him. So does everyone else at home. And he knows it.

A brat is as brat does, and this brat is a brat in the most thorough sense of the word. His antics get bolder by the day and his belly gets bigger. Shocking for a ten year old to have a 30 inch waist and this is not an exaggeration. His tum tum, while extremely adorable when he does his shirtless “Gummy bear” rendition, is cause for concern considering that people in my family are prone to obesity and diabetes.

The child is extremely street smart, hates school, acts twice his age and eats enough for three(mA).  The coming of Bakra Eid brings with it a host of activities from which he returns smelling like the creatures he adores and refuses to shower till pestered to the point of having someone shout at him. And that will only occur after he’s chased down and given his beloved baji a tight sweaty hug to her extreme mortification and distress.

Recently at the library, he brings to me two Harry Potter books to issue for him. Extremely impressed and proud I was of him for finally getting literally inclined. For those few moments, until he reveals to me that they are for a school book review and he intends to read the back covers only for that. Of course baji wouldn’t mind helping him out since baji loves those books too. Baji thumped one of the copies on his head, checked out one and vowed to force him to read it. That book is still untouched on her table.

Monkey is clearly not a morning person, though weekends and holidays are exempt from this rule of thumb. Okay, whining before school is normal for any child, I did it back in my day too. Monkey however takes it to a new level. He will lock himself in his room or the bathroom till it’s too late. That admittedly is not crazy enough. He furthers it with getting out of the bathroom right after the clock strikes 8 and it’s too late for school and starts crying. Yes, no provocation, by then my mother and I have both given up and either left or gone back to sleep.  He will step out and start howling at the top of his voice. Reason, we “scared” him when we were shouting at him to get out and dress up for school. Or because he’s so SORRY and he didn’t want to hurt and disappoint our mother. Then he will wink at me.

Of course there are times when he’s flooded the bathroom and told my mom he’s made a “Niagara Falls” because she tried to make him go to school. Or poured my make up down the sink because he was mad at me. Or the times when he locks me out of the room, right before a morning class, so that we can’t take away his beloved computer also residing in said room, which makes sense. Only, I don’t think any of my professors would be very understanding of the excuse, “my brother locked me out of the room and my clothes and bag were inside” for being late.

I blame my parents for spoiling the chit till he became a fat monkey of a child. He gets away with it every time too. At his age I wouldn’t dare do half of what he does, my parents were extremely strict with us.  Now they’re old and lenient and he gets the best of it. I’m almost jealous, but I love the brat. For all his crazy antics he’s a good kid at heart. Or maybe that’s something only a sister would say. Though at times he’s a regular little angel. He'll paint my nails, help me pick out my outfits, fetch things, do just about anything I ask him to (provided he’s in a good mood) and is the reason the house doesn’t feel like a cave after my other two brothers left for Canada.

I love you kid. Lose some weight, pull up them grades, read, SHOWER, stop whining, start hating Miley Cyrus, quit fashion world or whatever girly FaceBook game it is that you’re stuck on, counter strike is acceptable but you hog the PC all the time and try not to annoy me so much. Also it is not okay for you to take longer to do your hair than me. Stop attempting to lift me up too. You’re ten years younger than me, and just because you CAN do it, doesn’t make it right. Baji is the nicest endearment I’ve gotten because of how you say it. We’ve trained you well enough. All of us are proud of you, our little masterpiece.

Now how does one not want to whack
his face?

You’re at a night match with your little friends right now, and I’m upstairs at home, it’s dull without you.



(Note: baji: sister, bakra: goat)