My Three Kids

My Three Kids

My three kids

Three kids I have
Two daughters and a son.
Can anybody imagine
The plight of the Parents?
No. Not both.

It is only the mother’s in this case.
Because the father has always been “cool”
Agreeing to all their demands
Without questioning.

Provide them the pocket money
Each time they ask for
Which exceeds more than twice a week.
Over and above the expenses of their expensive food orders
Or shopping.

“Mama, be a cool mom.”
I have always been hearing to since long.
But how can I be cool
Though I pretend many a time.

With n number of dating websites coming up
And the sort of bold discussions they have
What I hear eavesdropping.

It is the horror of the so-called fashion sense sometimes,
It is weird Television shows sometimes.
Sometimes, it is the standup comedian shows
And the YouTubers with their double-meaning vulgar jokes.

My eldest S
Sober in expression absorbs in a fraction
What is going on around.
Soft and indirect in demanding.
Dresses up perfectly the way she wants it to be.
Collection of wrist watches is her obsession.

The middle B
In stark contrast to S
A rebel and hits the nail on the head.
Fails to meet her own expectation to exact dress like her sister
Always upset and keeps it limited.
Shoes are her obsession.

The last N
He doesn’t know what he needs.
But always upset about why nobody knows.
A recluse he prefers to be
Holed up in his room
When he is on his cellphone.
Claiming his sisters’ obsessions is his obsession.

I wonder how I can get these brats to focus on their goals.
When I try to keep them away from mobile phones,
Keep them engaged in conversations,
Have their participation in household chores,
I fail miserably.
All I get to see is the three occupying three corners of the bed
Glued to their phones.

But they are not just these
Even if the worry might give me panic attacks.
S, a knowledge freak, knows well her responsibility.
She has gone on her father.
My pride!

B, crystal clear with her thoughts and expressions
My Dream of life she lives.
She has gone on her mother
That’s Me.

And N
Socially awkward
With very little demands
But knows to get what he wants.
Oh yes, he does!
Give him some appreciation and see wonder unravel before your very eyes
But not every time.
He has gone on whom?
He doesn’t like to hear it again
That he is adopted.
He is the purpose of my life.

My kids.
My paradoxes.
My sweethearts.

It no more hurts me when I think about me not being around them.
Because each one is my reflection.
Strong, expressive in their own ways, fun loving and most importantly responsible.

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