07 February 2016

Abbu the conqueror

I opened my front door yesterday and do you know what I found there?  

My mother, standing alone and looking worried. I very nearly screamed, such was my shock at seeing her. For a moment, it could have gone either way, screaming or not screaming. In the end – mercifully – no scream was forthcoming. (Alhamdulillah…)

Instead I said, “Come in, Ammi! Hello. How long have you been here?” She had not called ahead nor even knocked. I’d been going to check the mail when I found her.  Standing there. Looking worried.

“It’s still in the car,” Ammi said, which was no help whatsoever in solving the mystery.

“What is ‘it’?” I said, peering around her to the driveway.

My father was out there, of course. He was outside the Lumina yet reaching into its back seat, caught up in a battle of epic proportions. The sort of battle people write about later on, really, and not just in blogs.

He appeared to be losing to an octopus, from my perspective.

“Your father has purchased a bicycle,” Ammi said. She shook her head. “He wants you to teach him to ride.”

I briefly reconsidered the whole business with the screaming. “Me? Why me?”

“He says he taught you to ride and now you must teach him.”

Meanwhile, in the driveway, the battle was over and Abbu the Conqueror stood smiling next to a surprisingly small purple bicycle.

“Why not Farzana?” I said. I was grasping at straws now. “She has medical training!”

We watched – helplessly – as Abbu pushed his new bicycle to my front door. “Don’t be silly, dear,” my mother said. “Farzana is not qualified to instruct on how to ride a bike.”

The training went badly but later we went for tea, so the day was not a total loss. 

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