Feelings
A kick in time!
By Emmanuelle
There is this true story of an adorable first grader, with dimples so deep on both cheeks, on both knees, and just at the region of both kidneys. This is not descriptive overkill. We said adorable, didn’t we?
To exercise our creative imagination further, let’s call this adorably dimpled boy Dimples, shall we?
One day, Dimples runs to his mother with tears coursing down his eyes in rivers and streams. Now, this definitely is overkill.
He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand so he could see better through his tears. There, I see Mommy! Mommy!
It is no surprise that Mommy is as adorable as her child, with her so short shorts and strapless bare-mid excuse for a blouse. She sees her child so distressed. She wrings her hands haplessly. For lack of a hanky, for where could she possibly tuck one in with so skimpy an attire, she wipes off the smudges of tears and dirt from his face with the palms of her hands. See how useful hands are? But that’s another story.
Mommy: What happened, dear, what is wrong?
Dimples: The class bully bullies me all the time!
Or so the conversation goes. At times like this, all mothers naturally go crazy. And so did this one. Adorable Mommy goes crackers, berserk right off her rockers. She goes nuts, bananas, and all the other fruits.
Her short perilous career as a young housewife has taught her that a harsh situation must have its katapat solution. Thus, she marches her little boy off to her instructor. Who instructs not on science, or English, or math but on martial arts.
For what can a bullied do to solve a problem like a bully? You cannot split an atom, or throw a metaphor or square a root to tame a bully. But you can split your legs wide as you throw a well-placed kick to square things out.
After six months of bungling and tumbling and puffing, the child losses some fat to gain some muscles. Or, at least the hint of a beginning of lean and trim, of fast and deadly.
One day, he comes home from school, all sunny smiles and dimples. Gone is the cowering of a hurting fearful little boy. Where once there were streams of tears, there now the brightness of clear skies. His face glows with triumph. He walks with a light skip and a hop.
He grew just a millimeter or more, but he feels a building tall! He is strong, he is smug, he is king of the world.
Dimples: Mommy! I did it! The bully is now my slave!
Mommy: Yes! And where is this fellow your slave?
Dimples: Here she is, Mommy. She now follows me everywhere.
Mommy is stunned. She loses her voice. Her eyes pop, her jaw drops, her thumbs-up gesture freezes on midair. She? The bully is a she?
She looks down. The bully looks up to her and across to her son in soulful adoration. She may be filthy in her blue jumpers but there is no mistaking the pretty face, the long lashes and the longest of pony-tails. Her skin bears the tell-tale blue smudges of a battle just lost. Her eyes, though, speak of a war just won. Witty girl.
The last we saw Mommy, she was still running after Dimples, her right hand holding a slipper threateningly up in midair.
(Readers may reach columnist at jingmil@yahoo.com. For past columns, click http://sundaypunch.prepys.com/archives/category/opinion/feelings/
For reactions to this column, click “Send MESSAGES, OPINIONS, COMMENTS” on default page.)
Share your Comments or Reactions
Powered by Facebook Comments
