another one of those

one of her "wa-pa-naligo-princess-ita" moments. hehe.

There are so many things to blog about but I always end up blank and tired after I write the first line. Toinks. Hopefully this one thing I’m going to write about now will be interesting enough to me for me to finish. Hehe.

Well, there’s this elderly I know, whenever we meet, would always bring up the topic of her experience in raising a (supposedly hyperactive-when-he-was-a-kid) son. She’d tell me there’s no month in a year where they wouldn’t pay a visit to a certain hospital. This son was always prone to accidents that were (obviously) evident in the scars and whatnots he now has. In the first two times I hear the story, I felt a little so-so. But when I heard the same story over and over again each time we meet, I found my eyebrows rise a little higher and heard myself go, “hmmm…” Besides, I do find it weird and creepy how she could laugh at herself in between stories of how he got this scar and that scar. In short, I got a little disgusted.

So I finally confronted this son and asked, “During all those accidents, where was this someone who was supposed to look after you?” I assumed that since his mother was a working mom, she shouldn’t have been around all the time and by that, there should have been “someone”, be it herself, a family, or a help to look after her son.

He replied, “As far as I can remember, it was only me around.”

“You mean you were left unsupervised after all those you-are-hyperactive-and-prone-to-accidents hoopla?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

There you go. I’m just saying.