A Short Story

“Mommy! Mommy! Look at me!” The little girl came out from the room and walked to her mother dressed in a white Muslim dress smeared with all shades of color imaginable. She had powder in her hair, which was dishevelled and in what was obviously an attitude at wearing ponytails.

She was wearing all shades of make up on her face and it looked like she has turned a brown lipstick into eye shadows and worse. She looked beautiful,more so she thought as she strutted into the room to show her mother just how capable she was of dressing herself up.

She was only four years old.

Her mother, sitting behind the TV set, watching her favorite soap opera had failed to turn when the little girl came in because she was trying to unravel the mystery of who the handsome guy in the mask was and the heroine was giving him a ‘trick kiss’ in an attempt to unmask him. Their lips were locked on the screen as the little girl walked in.

She took her eye off the screen for one second to see what the fuss was about and in the next second the remote control was flying out of her hand as she flew out of the comfortable sofa, the on screen kiss forgotten and thinking what did you do this time, all in one fluid motion.

The utter horror on her face frightened the little girl and she looked on bewildered as her mother bore down on her. Finally she voiced out her thoughts ” what have you done?”

“Mommy i dressed up for you, just as you dress up when you and daddy are going out.” The child’s innocence cut through her like a deep knife and she realised that she had actually overreacted the way she has sprung out of the chair like a lioness about to pounce on it’s prey.

She lifted the little girl in her arms and headed towards the bedroom knowing very well what kind of mess she was going to be met with. She was sure her boudoir will be a complete mess with powders poured all over, lipsticks used like crayons and shone only prayed that she was lucky that there was no perfume on the dressing mirror. Luckily she kept those In the locked wardrobe.

Carrying the child to the room brought back fond memories and these memories made her laugh to herself. She remembered one time whe she was a little gal curious about make up and had raided her mother’s dresser in a bid to look beautiful. Now it was the turn of her daughter.

The child in her arms picked up on the smile on mommy’s face and in confusion asked what it was.
“You look very pretty my dear. Now let’s go look at yourself in the mirror.”

The initial confusion and anger was gone replaced by a fondness for this lovely part of her, her daughter. She carried this multicoloured smeared bundle of joy in her arms with pride as she walked towards the bedroom, soap opera forgotten and thinking to herself ‘ truly, the apple does not fall far from the tree’.

She has to check who that quote belonged to.,

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