My neighbours’ 3 year old son is haunting me. For some reason, he decided to fall in love with me and has become my self-appointed shadow. This morning he was at my house as early as 6:30 am and clambered onto my bed with me. I had to listen to his constant chat with semi consciousness. He even followed me to my office! Oh, lest I forget, it’s the start of the holiday season here. I had to think of a way to shake him off.
Shaking him off does not mean I don’t like him; he is adorable. I just needed some time to myself. My mum said I needed to get used to it. I disagree. I am not a mum, yet.
One great advantage of being a single lady, besides not being accountable to a husband, is not having to deal with children every second. Once in a while, yes. Every now and then, no problem. 12 hours at a stretch? That is stretching things too far. I know that eventually I would have to get used to toddlers hanging on to my skirts, losing my privacy, even when I go into the bathroom, and learning to multi-task with dexterity. But not yet. I feel bad and so un-African (if there is such a concept), and a bit guilty too, but truly it gets wearying.
Anyway, I sent him home on an errand to his mum. On his way out he informed me that he was coming to see me when he was done. I closed early from work and had to scout around to make sure he was nowhere in sight then I went to my parents’ to hide out. Unfortunately I do not really feel relaxed until I am on my own bed so I snuck out again and made my way covertly towards my house. As I got near my house I relaxed my watchful stance and was actually giving myself a mental pat on the back for being so successful at evading him when there he was. He said he had been knocking on my door. I sighed in defeat.
So here I am on my bed with my laptop. I am typing this with the background sound of Right Here from Brandy’s Departed Album and incessant questions from a curious 3 year old which I am doing my best to ignore. Sigh.