I begin this story from what I know now: all humans lie. All of them.
It was 2004. I was three, maybe four. It was my first time. And I remember it so well because it was my own bloody mother.
As an only child, I was bored out of my ass most of the time. The kid down the road, Jimmy, almost always shat himself and fisted sand down his mouth. I was dumb and reckless, but even then I knew there were limits to how disgusting a child should be.
I learned a few years later he was bottle fed. Maybe that’s why he was the way he was. I don’t know. I didn’t care.
What I did care about was my mother, all dressed up in some pretty dress ready to leave the house. The help was around, so she felt okay leaving me alone with her for a little while. I did not.
Bob, my police doll, and I had gotten tired of chasing imaginary robbers and bringing them to justice. I needed to do something else. Something exciting, or at least, something new.
Since Jimmy was clearly not an option, and girls still irritated me, my mother was the option left. Before you say anything, yes I did not recognize my mother as a girl - she was my mother! Anyway, I dashed after her.
I didn’t care where she was going, or if there were other fun kids and kid toys. All I knew was, she was going out, and I, the apple of her eye, first born son of the house Ebubedike, the one who parted her legs from the inside out, the reason for which she is now called mother, must follow her out.
She said no.
Whhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!
I was livid. I started raving; Are you mad? Have you gone mental? Do you know who I am…
I’m kidding. Of course I didn’t say that. My vocabulary wasn’t very developed then.
What I did do in reality was cry, beg, roll on the floor and throw a tantrum. My mother is kind. She would not leave her child crying and go out. She had her reputation to think about. Besides, what would Jimmy’s mother say?
So what she did instead was pick me from the floor and clean my tears. She decided to try one last time. She promised to get me my favourite sweets if I let her go out. I knew this trick. I would not fall for it. And knowing her, I could just ask for the sweet while we were out. She would not say no.
Then she gave in. Gently dropping me on the floor, she told me the eight magic words:
“Oya, go and wear your shoe let’s go.”
I had won. Like I said, do you know who I am?
I ran to my room. I was four or three at the time, so I wasn’t very skilled in the art of shoe wearing. My mum could do it faster, so my big idea was to get it to her to wear it on me, and then we would be out the house.
But alas! I had been taken for a buffon. A fool.
By the time I returned, my mother was gone. Left in her place was the ugly bucktoothed help with a wide grin on her face. I’m sure she was happy to see me fall.
And this time, I was actually livid.
But like I said, with little to no vocabulary, I did the only thing a toddler could do: cry myself to sleep.
That was the day I learned a very important lesson: never trust women.
Okay no it wasn’t, that one is a story for another day.
But that’s when I learned that everyone will lie to you; including your own mother.
I grew to learn I wasn’t the only child fooled with this tactic. You probably were too.
Apparently this is the first trick that is taught in the course HOW TO BE A MOTHER 101
AKA: lie to your children for their character development.
That’s why my motto now is: don’t trust words, trust action.
You say you love me?
Sure, whatever.
But when I receive the credit alert, that’s when I know you mean business.
You say you enjoyed this story?
Sure, if you say so.
But when you share this story with your friends and on your social media platforms, that’s when I’ll trust you.
So if you really did like it, then show your love by clicking the share button below
Until next time,
Stay easy,
Dave
P.S: this story is fiction. I’ve been out of the game for a while so my current goal now is to get better at storytelling through consistent practice.
At least five times a week for the next two weeks, I’ll send you a short story.
Might be fiction, might be real life, the important thing is that it’s interesting.
If you want to know when the next story drops, then put in your email and subscribe below.
P.P.S: if you did get to this point, that means I’m doing something right, and you weren’t bored. Hooray.
If you do relate to the story, and you want to share a laugh or your own story you can reach out to me on WhatsApp here.
The most important thing in this process is feedback. So if you have compliments, ideas on how I can do this better or any suggestions at all
Then please reach out to me on WhatsApp here
And of course, if you really did like this story, forget words, use action and share
Story of my life