A hiatus, yet again; Excuse is that I was travelling. Blogs are like Sharks, I read somewhere, they have to keep moving to survive. I ain’t let this one expire so soon.

We were visiting my parents last month; my little one had a chance to get out of these closed apartments and experience a more open bungalow with a beautiful veranda. Family get together followed and my angel remained cynosure through out that evening. Unlike me, she was getting along with people, quite easily. I felt happy, she might not grow up as a sulky introvert, as I am. I and my wife, remained as spectators, as she comfortably ignored our existence and started to play with our cousins, aunts and others.

Then, in quiet hall, after a grand dinner, after all the guests left, the family settled in the hall. My daughter, usually, is off to sleep early but there she was meddling with one of the toys, she got as a gift. My mother joined us and sat next to me on the sofa. Like a guerrilla warrior, waiting for an opportunity, my daughter left her toy, and came towards my mother. Poor soul! she thought her grand daughter was showing affection, which she yearned for long. She started to push my mother aside, “Get up! Get up!” she started to cry. After noticing that my mother refused to budge, she sneaked into the small gap between us, laid her head on my lap and looking at my mother, she said, “My Daddy, my daddy”, clutching my t-shirt tight. All of us burst into laughter.

My mother, annoyed a bit, “He is my son before he became your dad” and playfully placed her hand over my shoulders. She wriggled in the limited space between us and stood up to remove her hand off me. “My Daddy”, she twitched her eye brows and sounded more affirmative this time around. Her expression read more like a warning “Don’t you ever touch him!?”

It was my wife’s turn now. “He is not your Daddy, he’s mine”, she said, taking my daughter off my lap. A loud shriek followed by inconsolable tantrums were on display. My wife prolonged it a bit, “He’s my daddy” she said. My daughter stood up and started to fight with my wife, “My Daddy” she repeated several times, before I took her into arms. With both her arms around my neck, and her head on my shoulders, she gave that cute little smile to other two ladies in the room. Going by the reactions on their faces, I think that smile meant “He’s my daddy, I won”

I think a man will be his mother’s during childhood and then his wife’s and then, for rest of his life, his daughter’s…!! What do you think!?