Pii, or em? As if it matters...
I was feeling strangely smug, having successfully performed a task not attempted previously. A milestone it was, and there were times when I suspected that I must have been grinning madly to myself as I browsed through the myriad fantasy novels on the shelf.
It was a great place; it had all the books that I wanted. Ah, the sweet, lovely smell of new books. Pity that this particular shopping centre had to be located at the other side of the state, though…
Then, out of nowhere, a bright orange piece of paper was thrust to my vision, obstructing my view from the two racks of Raymond E. Feists.
“Aunty, today is Left-Hander’s Day.”
I turned to the source of the voice. A boy was looking at me earnestly behind his glasses. Suddenly, I was aware of the embarassing fact that I had been staring at him.
“Er, uhm. Sorry, what did you say?” I spluttered.
“Today is Left-Hander’s Day,” he repeated patiently, still waving the brightly-coloured leaflet at me.
With a sigh, I took it. “Oh, okay.”
He walked away quickly with a thank-you.
My, my, such manners.
So he has been taught how to distribute the leaflets.
But someone had obviously forgot to tell him that not everyone older than him has to be addressed as an ‘aunty’.
That darn kid.
I am afraid that there is only one person who can call me as such. However, his vocabulary is still somewhat limited, confined to only the most basic of objects. But that is normal for a seventeen-month-old.
And only I can be his aunt. Wink.