Jesse has learnt to say Mommy. Not Mama or Meh-Meh, but Mommy - and properly enunciated at all the right places too. So, occasionally, he'll look up at Mae and just call out to her, "Mommy, mommy!"
This morning, the boy woke up on the wrong side of bed - at 6:30 am, mind you. It took awhile for Mae and I to pacify him. Finally, I brought him out to the living room and played with him a little, if only to give Mae and extra hour of sleep.
He felt a little better after 15 minutes of quality Daddy Entertainment. And then Roma, our Domestic Management Assistant, walked in. As she did, he lifted up both his arms to her, gave her one of his effective puppy-dog expressions and called out, "Mommy!"
And suddenly, flashbacks of "The Hand That Rocks The Cradle" plays over in my mind, like a dark cloud of despair looming over me! Was Roma slowly replacing us in Jesse's heart? Was our child being hijacked away from us? Is she secretly feeding him some twisted propaganda!? What!??!?!...
"No, Jesse," she gently replies in her newly acquired English vocabulary, "It's Kakak." She turns to smile sheepishly at me, somewhat embarassed by the incident. Yet, it was a little disconcerting, that smile. It was as though behind the flashy, pearly whites hides a sinister little secret seething with conspiracy. *ulp*
Mae and I had better be on our toes.