The Dichotomy

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A Glass of Milk was Spilled Today

Mothers are not angels come down to Earth. They are human beings doing the best they can for their children and families and half the time too worried about the future of their children to think straight. Don’t put them on a pedestal. Appreciate them for being humans with frailties. As one mother succinctly put it, “We are angels, just angry angels quite a lot of the time.”

A Glass of Milk was Spilled Today


A glass of milk was spilled one day.

Mother yelled and Sunny froze,

Knowing the drill, he waited

For the storm to close.


Anger though takes time waning,

For this event alas, kept recurring.

Clearly audible was her muttering,

About careless wastage – dire warning.


Forecasts faithfully foretold, such folly

Would surely make Sunny’s future unholy.

Then the Homeless and Hungry

Were invited in spirit to behold

How naughty Sunny wilfully

Their last meagre supper, floored!


Time at last cooled Mother’s temper,

Having vented some other skirmish here,

It was just a storm in a tea cup,

And the milk finally mopped up.


Sunny regretted in vain,

Guilt trip was his bane;

In his mind, jumbled, faint

Articulated a refrain:

“It was an accident.

Everyone, you too,

Have thus been rent.

How much did you

Then exclaim, regret,

Brow beat yourself

Over the head?

You’d be of the ilk:

A waste to cry

Over spilled milk.”


Their dog, a house pet

Tethered at bay,

Hoped the accident

Would play out his way.

Wished they’d let him

lap the milk up;

Such a tasty way

To clean the mess up.


A glass of milk was spilt again today.

Mother yelled and Sunny froze,

Knowing the drill, he waited

For the storm to come to a close.


Too many glasses had been spilt,

And Mother’s anger quickly built.

Sunny struggled with his own guilt;

Why did he keep gesticulating

While eating, his stories punctuating?


But this time mother’s mind, sane,

Articulated a humble refrain.

“What if I had caused the spilling?

Wouldn’t I be far more willing

To let go, without any milling?

I would quite easily myself  bilk:

What waste, crying over spilled milk.”


At that thought she smiled,

Shared with Sunny, quiet mild:

Her crazy reverse thought process.

Sunny amazed, was not in disgrace.


The dog wagged his tail eagerly;

His tongue lolled out happily.

“Someone please read my mind,

Let me lap up the milk, be kind,

I’ll clean up the mess in a jiffy,

No need at all to be miffy.”


This time Mother did look to him,

And he did the job with superb vim.