On a perfectly relaxed, lazy Saturday morning, while the kitchen was bustling with breakfast preparations, I was perched next to the computer, staring at uTorrent like a compulsive horse race gambler, willing my precious downloads to perform better. Just then a call rang out.
Paging Musthafa, please report to the bedroom.
I sighed, knowing perfectly well what the situation was. My two year old niece Zara had burst into tears, apparently traumatized at being denied permission to venture out into the hot sun. And since all hands were on deck in the kitchen, it was up to me to pacify the little girl.