Learning to Be a Mother

24. Whatever!

I laughed at what Fathan said to me. He asked for chocolate, a chocolate bar that was probably the same thing I gave my youngest. Whether because of envy or both like chocolate as well, finally I can only smile a little while approaching it.

"Do you really want chocolate?" my question is to ascertain his wish. "Aren't you looking for a ball, a shoe, a book, or a novel?"

"Can you have a novel, Ma?"

Fathan immediately turned his head, sounding enthusiastic to hear his favorite item mentioned as a form of appreciation offer. He really likes to collect novels, seems to also like to write stories seen from the many books. So I nodded slowly.

"May, but champion one, huh?"

My son's expression is waning. "If not champion one?"

"Drugs used to be the same novel."

Actually, I don't know many novels and don't know what kind of novel genre my son likes. Thought from the cover of the book like romantic stories, sometimes I think Fathan kind of alay read all that. Maybe it's a passion for reading, but it shouldn't be as much as what's on display here.

Boys should look strong, dashing with athletic posture that makes every girl amazed and fascinated. Meanwhile, my son actually became one of the groups of teenagers who like hallucinations. I mean, what's in it?

All I want is Fathan at number one. Later, I can make my first child as a sister who is exemplary by the sister and children of the neighbors. Despite the many achievements he has achieved in academics, at least Fathan must also look domineering that he can make my dreams come true.

After all, the difference between my son's rank and the rank I asked for just now is just a different number. It seemed like it would be easy if Fathan studied with a little more time than the previous one. He's always been second and that's what always makes me tick.

"I want a novel, Ma."

"Yes, later if the first champion Mama loves her novel, yes."

My son seemed to cheer inwardly, then continued his activities with gesticulation or more vigorous behavior. A few seconds after glancing through his study table, there was a sheet of paper on display that managed to lure my attention to the picture.

My finger pointed at it, looking at these lines forming a sketch of what seemed familiar to me. During my visit to this room, I had never seen the paper I now held that successfully created many questions in my head.

I did not immediately ask, I thought for a moment while looking at each row of pencil results that are many so as to form a shadow that becomes so. My eyelids narrowed, paying close attention to this image because it was the first time Fathan had seen the pattern of the image he had just created during his lifetime.

"Fathan, who is this?"

My son gave attention, he blinked quickly and looked panicked when he realized the paper had been seen by me.

"That's ...."

Again I watched him carefully, and then showed it to my son. "It's a girl's picture, isn't it?"

Fathan seemed confused as to what to answer, as if my question had the right answer. Seeing her so nervous, I spontaneously threw the paper at her desk.

"And Mama told me, focus on learning not pictures of girls! You don't know what you think or who this girl is, just be careful if your value goes down because of this!"

I snarled when the boy had time to pick up and hide the paper again. The picture is good, but realizing the object was a woman made me assume that she was in the phase of falling in love with a teenager and I didn't like to see her enter the monkey's love environment.

The words I made as a conclusion, the last sentence that accompanied my departure from the room. My feelings got worse when I found out Fathan was no different, I thought he could be more mature than his sister, it turned out to be the same. Finally also fall into a love that is not necessarily true.

Afterwards, I glanced at the youngest child's room section. There is no sign of life from here, usually the room is always noisy with the noise of music and others whose language I do not understand. Did he really learn or just avoid his father?

Kepo, I'm finally approaching the room. I don't think this door needs to be knocked like her brother's. Since there was no writing of the knocking request and I intended to know the activity as well, I pushed the doorknob that brought my vision to a woman there.

If his brother has an indie impression and is one with nature, then his sister has an impression that is very far from the word calm and feminine. Maybe from the way of dress is still arguably suitable, but from his taste in music and his interest in things that are now even more containing rock and tomboy that sometimes makes me upset.

When his brother neatly arranged the room, his sister was instead stranded scattered in the room with a lot of snacks that have not been used up, as well as sleeping equipment that does not fit the place. Like fruit plates on the cupboard, milk boxes that have been used up under the mattress, and dry cakes that are still open on the study table.

I don't understand what the cause is, but my son this one does seem wilder than the Big Brother. As I approached his presence, I picked up something that could be tidied up for a while and put aside something that was disturbing the scene.

"Let's go" said my son. "Raptain, Ma?"

My head shook. "No, just want to know what you're doing" I said with a small smile, still remembering how happy Kalista was to get the chocolate yesterday. "Aren't you studying?"

"Studying?" reworked. "No, if it's now mah. Tomorrow there will be an exam, but later the malem can also. It's still waiting for the rain to stop."

Hearing her still have hope of traveling, I exhaled. Kalista who saw me so create a frown on the forehead, asked why I actually look "Well." with what he did earlier.

Kalista asked, "Emang why the hell, Ma? Besides I play not the same Biyan, there are group friends. This is also a form of refreshing, we have a reservation from yesterday, you know. It's not good if you don't come."

"Well, you get a reservation where everything is?" I immediately spouted a question. "Why is there a big event, how much money is that? Dear money."

"I'm using my money. I know Mama won't give, so I didn't tell Mama that I was going there."

"That's not so, Kalista," I said calming down her conjecture that seemed cornered. "Mama want you to go for a walk, but do not need to go that far, later if there is anything how? Who's the hard one? It must be in Karawang there, right?"

"There's Biyan."

"What is your relationship with Biyan, anyway?"

"Yes, anyway Mama believes in Biyan," he said easily. "I'm not good with him because every time he comes here must be diomelin continue, is Mama not embarrassed?"

"You should be ashamed!"

My son frowned. "I'm wearing clothes."

"Consared of neighbors coming home with men, later asked questions or talked about. Mending if the guy is good, if the guy is not real, how?"

"Mama indirectly had a bad idea to Biyan, yes," replied my son who did not want to lose, I just remembered he had this attitude. "Whatever, Mama. What matters is that I'm going there."

"Whatever!"