Oooh, yes. Here she is, when she's having fun. The cutest little baby girl in the Universe. For me, anyway. Also, she is the meanest slave-holder, unforgiving, impatient, violent. The slave, of course, is me. Hence the name of my blog. Whenever she asks for... correction, demands something, I have to obey, and do that immediately and keenly or I am in trouble. Sometimes she just screams, sometimes she hits me, but the cruelest punishment is when she starts to cry. It's not even loud, you know. Mostly she just stends there, looking at me, her cheeks turn red, the corners of her mouth start sinking deeper and deeper, her eyes full of accusation and complaint, looking straight at me, and suddenly overflowing with tears. Then, the corners of the mouth are so low, they pull down the lower lip, allowing her to drool and let out a heartbreaking moan. By this time I am usually filled with guilt and self-reproach. How can I be such a terrible mother? She is only 21 ms old, and I made her cry! Bad, bad mommy, me! So what if she wants to play with the digital camera? By the time I get here in my chain of thoughts, she cries "mommy-mommy-mommyyy", usually adding "aaoowww" for dramatic effect. She tends to overact, and this is my luck. It helps me to come to my senses. Even now, as I am writing it down, it fills me with shame, but to tell the truth, she makes me laugh every time she cries like this. She is so cute, so adorable, even when she's showing her worst side, that I cannot help but love her, marvel at her and laugh from the joy I get from having such a lovely, headstorng ruler. I grab her immediately and rock her in my arms until she stops crying and hugs me. And then, we are back to normal and life goes on. Still, she can do this to me every time, waking the guilt ever so ruthlessly, whenever I disobey.
Guess I should inform Amnesty International, really.
Well, what the heck. Slaves like me suffer this way all over the world every day, I guess. It is all in a day's work for mothers. Neverending service.