To My Dearsest Son,

To my dearest son, my simba, my connect-to-the-disassociated world,

To my fatigue, my smile and my jargon,

To my jinga-boli, aabad-daabad , shoochi-poochi,

To my cold food and messy-hair-in-a-bun,

To my pee-ed and poop-ed pajamas,

To my 4:00am conversations and dark circles,

To my cerelac, daliya, khichdi-smelling kitchen,

To my long-fancy-nails cut short,

To my hair flicks pinned with a clip,

To my panic, my rest,

To my complaints and prayers,

And most importantly, to my indelible happy soul,

I love you to the moon and back,

And all other planets in the Universe.