Imagine if you will, a Vijay who is leaving for Bombay for a major presentation. Unlike his usual calm, unruffled self, he has been a little agitated about the presentation, and I have been trying to calm him down.
His flight is at 9.30 a.m. and he knocks on the bathroom door at about 7.30 a.m. as I am bathing along with Peanut. He enters, picks up his shaving kit and then says Bye. I have soap in my eyes, but I want to give him a final parting shot, and decide to make it a joke.
'Don't worry, honey. Just remember...one day we're all going to die! So the presentation doesn't really matter'.
There is a snort of laughter from outside, which almost drowns out the sound of the little gasp from somewhere near my soapy knee.
I look down and see Peanut staring up at me in horror 'Mama! You said we're all going to die!'
I panic, afraid that I have scarred my four year old for life. I had totally forgotten about her.
'No, no, beta. WE are not going to die...it's just that....'
'But you SAID it. You said we're all going to DIE...'
'No, no...what I meant was...see...'
Meanwhile, there is snorting of laughter from outside, this time with a lot more real humor in it.
And THAT, my friends, is bad parenting. Exhibit 17 a. Sigh.