Like his brother, Nischal also has asthma or asthma-like problems.He also gets colds easily which turn into wheezing bouts requiring inhalers, nebulizers, etc.
So, his mom keeps a tight control on the cold stuff he eats. Ice creams are a rarity, sodas from the fridge border on extinction.
So, when pizza orders come with the complimentary pepsi bottles, or the occasional kiddie party where we ply his buddies with chips & colas - the left over bottle usually lands up in the fridge, and stays there.
Dad and Mom who are hitting their 40s in both age and hip-size - stay away from them.
So, that makes the fridge an awe-inspiring trove of the forbidden cold-soda for Nischal. He revels in watching the little fizz in his glass, and is immensely tickled by the little sprays on his lips when he gets the occasional sip.
The joy isn't limited to sodas.. but even juices and drinks like gatorade - anything chilled.
Now, mom recently got some gatorade powder that she uses to whip up bottles for his brother's tennis sessions. He's been watching with fascination, but didn't get much further.
So, yesterday night after mom went to bed started the project on dad.
He got hold of a powder sachet and started the be(u)gging. Dad tried ignoring him, but as usual, this one doesn't easily get distracted like the brother. Finally at 11 pm, dad was forced to make the drink, and give him a cup.
But the joy turned to anger when he saw that he could get only a small cup, and the rest was going to the fridge. Dad held steadfast - he had previous bed-wetting adventures to bolster him.
Morning came, and a new strategy was put into action.
First, there was 'I love you, Papa!', and the hug. Dad was pleased with this rare preference.
And then came 'Papa, see!' followed by deep breathing.
Last came the pronouncement - 'Papa, I have no cough, and no cold!'
Dad, glancing victoriously at Mom, widened his grin and made all the appreciatory noises. 'Great, Raja! You're a strong boy!'
With the trap now set, Nischal turns around and runs into the kitchen. The fridge door slams, and out he came with the gatorade bottle and a glass.
Also comes out a sugary sweet smile and sweeter words laced with milk & honey - 'Papa, can I have some? '
As Dad is digging deep in his brain for words,
Mom lets out a sly smile that says 'He knew the idiot to target, didn't he? '
