Breakfast? Who has time?

In another hour’s time, people would be eating their lunch but I sit, eyeing my breakfast lying near me while my li’l boy is latched on tightly on my lap. My toasts seem to get browner and stare at me with coldness for not consuming it while hot and tasty. But what can a mother do? So, I continue to wait till my li’l one surrenders himself to sleep.
Finally! I see his eyes shut and he delinks his tiny lips from my breast. Happy that its breakfast time now, I gently pick him up but I can’t put him to bed before giving him a good burp. I set him close to my bosom,’GROWLLLLLLLLLLLLLL’ my tummy seems to have become an enraged lion while my li’l one, startled by that, opens his eyes. Well! Breakfast has to wait for some more time.
While he continues to enjoy the lap time, I gaze at his tiny face and with my finger, I draw invisible lines of love. His forehead- I can’t help noticing those lines which resembles his paternal granddad’s. It’s amazing how a child can take on not just their parents’ but also their other relatives’ looks. Then I move down to his eyes. When open, he has his dad’s eyes but when he has them closed, I can’t help noticing how those closed eyes resembles those of my sister, the sister I lost eighteen years ago. Like I said, a baby can look like the whole lot of family members one has got.
Coming to the nose, there is no denying he has my nose. How my cousin hates the nose of our family! I mean all in my dad’s family, if we don’t have anything in common, well! We’ve our noses to prove that we are of same lineage. Whenever, we’ve family gathering, we always compare whose nose is the ugliest? That’s some fun activity, ain’t it?
The lips, oh my! How I feel like kissing those tiny pink thing but I know we shouldn’t be kissing an infant’s lips. Don’t want to pass on any germs! But there is a joy in simply looking at it. Had he been born a girl I would have wanted to call him something related to that pink lips.
Softly I take off his mittens and slide my finger in his clenched fist. My finger seems like Gulliver sleeping gigantic in the land of the Lilliput. His grip tightens around my gigantic finger. I’ve heard somewhere that a child can even kill a snake with that grip. I can’t vouch for that with any proven data, just a hear-say through the grapevine.
Before I can linger with that look, he wriggles and goes pink in the face. I know he needs a nappy change. Nappy changing of an infant can be like unpacking a gift situation with all those layers of blankets and clothes. I gently pull out his soiled diaper and leave his bottom open to air out. If one doesn’t know, airing out helps to prevent nappy rash. Before I’ve a chance to slide in the fresh diaper, oh! He wets the whole set of clothing and the wetness spreads like the cirrus clouds just seconds before the heavy downpour. Before I can do anything, even his shirts are wet. So then, I engage myself in changing the whole set of clothing.
While picking out fresh sets of clothing, I notice my untouched breakfast. My cousin comes in, “Ana, breakfast ma zala?” I smile and push the tray towards her,” chon chen om das gai lunch zalay!”