My daughter spent the entire evening miserable because the old people wanted to watch a movie and therefore her current favourite DVD, Lion King, which she calls “Jungle” cannot be played.
She was writhing and wailing on the floor and I pretended not to make big deal about it. Flashbacks of me crying on our stairs looking down at my parents watching the news, when I had wanted to watch The Muppet Show, made me sagely shake my head and smile. Goodness me, I was exactly the same if not worst than my daughter! At least she had the tears. I didn’t. I just had this really annoying wail that would have driven my parents bonkers.
Not people who believed in the rod, they nagged us to death. But in extreme cases, my mother would just ignore us. Such a case when one of us would whine or cry like a baby in need of feeding and immediate nappy change.
So I ignored my little girl while she was building up a storm. After about an hour of forever, she stopped, totally exhausted and eyes sore from all her tears. I went to her and kissed her as asked “iiyakan mo kaya nang ganito ang borfriend mo?”
I’ve had more tears shed for movies of Sharon Cuneta than all my past relationships combined. Makes one wonder if indeed, tears are good indicators of pain and vice versa.