'Of course we're running!' Says hubby. This was, needless to say, the indignant reply to my apparently silly question- 'are we running the Marthon?'
'And by we, you mean...' I ask. You know, one doesn't want things to be ambiguous.
'You, Me and Amma' says Hubby- clearly think I've lost it now. For hadn't we discussed this earlier- and decided that we would. You know, the family thing and all.
Good. Just so we were clear. Now for the Coup de Grace- 'So, who's going to take care of Pickwick?' I ask.
'Oh.' 'Yes, Oh. Minor fly in the ointment, eh?'
'Now is not the time to practice you vowels, hon.' I say, a tad impatiently.
Hubby's brow, which had temporarily furrowed, cleared up.
' No Problem. We take him with us, of course.'
Eh? (now is was my turn to do the vowels) No Problem? No Problem?? how is it Not a problem? Six Kilometers. Bad enough for a couch Potato like me. With Pickwick? Somebody send for the lawyers. I want to write my last will and testament.
'don't worry. we'll take turns. You me and Amma. Easy Peasy.' says Hubby patting my head. *gulp* 'OK. If you say so.' I mumble, sending up a silent prayer, rashly promising all kinds of thing to about 6-odd Gods. (it would have been more, but the names dried out at number Six.)
Overslept. Ran in and out of the shower. Changed 3 track pants. Settled on a fourth one belonging to Hubby. Bundled Pickwick into whatever I could lay my hands on. Had to re-do it. he was wearing 2 T-shirts and no shorts. Halfway to the station, Hubby realises he's forgotten our registration bibs. Damn. Backtrack. Just make it in time for a departing VT Train. Make our way thru a sea of humanity to the Company Marquee. Stuff myself with a Frankie, a Narial Panee and covetously eye the chaat counter before I realise I have to Pee. Run over, wait and do the needful, and the announcements for the starting of the race is on. Well, so far, pretty normal. Hmm.. maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.
At the holding block, Hubby suddenly announces 'You know, I want to give it my best shot. If I hold Pickwick, I'll never make it in decent time...' he looks at the two of us desperately, and Amma and self exchange the wouldn't-you-know-it glance. 'Fine. we'll handle it. go ahead'. I say resigned to dropping out of the race after 2 kms and joining the cheerers.
'Thanks!' says excited Hubby, hand over the squiming Bundle and head our front.
'If you can't trace me, head back home. don't wait long!' he yells as he vanished into the crowd.
Oh great. Might as well head home now, when the trains were empty!
Pickwick and amma, however kept me entertained enough to stick on- at least til the race started. Initially all we did was walk. We couldn't do much else. Pickwick was amused and amusing in turn, and I though to myself 'well, not bad, lest see how far I can stick it out'.
Pickwick, however had other ideas and firmly settled down for a good nap halfway through. Well, nevermind. There's Amma for company. I think. A further 2 kms down, I lose sight of Amma. She has been swallowed by a crowd of enthusiastic Giant I-Pods. Ye gads! just as I entertained thoughts of wading in to rescue her, Pickwick, fresh from his siesta, decides to egg me on in his peculair way- by digging his heels into my middle if I showed signs of easing up.
I had no choice- I had to finish...
As I made my way into the Marquee once more - after squeezing through the gates along with a million other people and introducing Pickwick to the joy of Feeling like a sardine in a can, I finally locate Amma.
NO sign of hubby though. As we make our way back, Hubby calls up. 'where are you?' he asks. 'where are you' I ask in turn. 'Home.' says hubby, as if what I was asking was a rhetoric.
'ah.' followed by silence on my part. Hubby sweats. 'well, I looked. Everywhere. you weren't there. Honest.'
'well, you're alright aren't you? good. I'll see you at home then. right. toodles.' says hubby with a feeble attempt at cheer.
Two hours later, outside our door. Sheepish Hubby- 'hi!'
'Why are you standing outside?' I ask surprised.
'well. The Keys. you have it. I though I'd wait til you get home. ' Poor thing. So he did keep his word about coming home together.
Hmmm... maybe next year, Pickwick can join this fun do- this time he WALKS!