No Mumma

Mumma roti. Mumma roti. Mumma roti.

For the 2 minutes that it takes me to make one roti, she repeats these two words non-stop. As the roti goes on the plate and I get yoghurt out, she quickly opens the spoon drawer and gets her spoon out. I pick up her plate and place it on the table.

No mumma, no khana. No mumma.


We are getting dressed to go out.

Mumma outside. Mumma baahar.

The coats are on. D and I have my shoes on. She is off standing on the other side of the room.

No mumma, no shoes. No mumma.


She sits on my lap, drinking her milk, rubbing her eyes. I place a kiss on her head and tell her, it is time for bed. Off she runs, away from me.

No mumma, no nini. No mumma.


I go to pick her up from daycare. She is standing at the window looking at the reception area, waiting for me. As I step inside her class, she runs and picks up a toy. I get her jacket out, but she runs from one toy to the other.

No mumma, no jacket.

When push comes to shove, she is on the floor screaming,

No mumma, no ghar.


Buzz, chalo nahaie time.
No mumma.

Buzz, all done nahaie. Chalo bahaar niklo.
No mumma.


I give up. I do.


2 thoughts on “No Mumma

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