Mud Pie and the rest

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon. Pom has recently risen after her afternoon nap. We are sitting holding steaming mugs of tea in companionable silence, till…

Me: (on the young Bangalore crowd after a rare Saturday night out)

I feel like an old woman with a decent grasp on youth.

Pom: (pulling her hair irritatedly, frowning)

I want mud pie.


Okay, when we go out next, we will. Gosh, it’s about to pour!!

Pom: (frowning more intensely than before)

Do you want mud pie?

Me: (looking out worriedly at the overcast sky)

No, Pom. Don’t you think we should get an umbrella for the car, Pom?

Pom: (triumphantly)

That’s it. I am ordering aglio olio!


It’s only 6, I can make that at home tonight! I thought you wanted mud pie?

Pom: (pacing around kitchen while I continue my worried survey of the sky)

Hmm. I want to eat something sweet. I wonder what.


Err… we could go out for mud pie?

Pom: (licking a spoon recently heaped with almond powder)

Nah! Not today. Today I want pizza.

And that is one of the saner weekend conversations we have had in the last two months.


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