Yes, I’m getting a shit machine

Look, he said. I yawned. It was six in the morning, and he had dragged me out of bed to walk along the shoreline at Arambol. He had been showing me (a) women with skateboard abs, (b) people doing yoga, and (c) women with skateboard abs doing yoga all week, and I couldn’t care less.

Until I realized he was pointing at a woman and her four (or five) year old boy doing yoga in matching white kurtas. Look – she’s teaching him Surya Namaskar.

The boy lifted his hands up at the count of one and bent to touch his feet at two. By three, he had collapsed into a heap on the ground. She frowned, pushing her left leg back and resting her knee on the ground. He sat up straight, mischief shining through his dark brown eyes, and tittered. She ignored him and pulled her right leg back, laying it to rest with the left, gently exhaling. The boy bit her on the heel, making her slip and fall. And then it happened. She glared, reached for him, and then tickled him till my bones started to hurt.

God! If my kid did that I’d probably not be able to bite back the anger. I’d probably hang him upside down till he learned his lesson.

You’re just saying that.

No, really. I don’t think I’m capable of being that tender – I think I’d be a terrible mom. I realize how filmi I sound, but it’s true.

Yes, you sound extremely filmi.

You’d probably be the good guy, because you’re a calm, rational person, and your parents really loved you. Me, I’d be aggressive, just like my parents. It’s hard for me to bite back my anger.

There’s only one way to find out. Let’s get us one of those babies and see how it goes.

I wanted to say, a baby? A boob-sucking, screaming, vagina-rending shit machine? Are you fucking kidding me? But that one was probably rude, so I had to be content with a stare and a shut up. 

He did. We just sat in silence and watched the woman teach her son the Bhujangasana pose, but we knew we had made our decision.