Day 16 of 100: No Hug in a Mug (Happy Mother's Day)

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Why were parents so obsessed with their kids getting good marks? It’s not like they had to sit in class and hear the teacher read the marks out loud for the world to hear.

   “My son, what is it that you aiming to get on the test?” was a question my mother would never ask me.

   Does she not understand that the whole point of me writing these tests, is so that I can beat my friends and laugh at the one with the lowest mark?

   Of course not.

   Else I wouldn’t be stuck here doing these dishes instead of playing Fortnight. And why? Because she wasn’t happy with the mark I got.

   I’m surprised I even got a mark, to be honest. Most of those questions covered work we didn’t even do in class. You could ask anyone.

   My mother didn’t believe me though.

   When it came to the report thing, my dad was the best person to see it first! That way he’d convince my mom that I’d do better next time.

   To him it didn’t matter. He preferred I excelled at sport, because that was where the money was.

   Only problem with that, is the fact that I was an average footballer with a horrible first touch.

   Oh no . . .

   My heart slipped out of my chest and followed the mug from my hands towards the tiled floor.

   In all directions, it hit the ground running.

   I tried to stop it with my foot but I was let down by my first touch, again.

   I think both my parents were disappointed then.

   In a pause and hit repetition, a loud sound, in a relaxed manner, came my way.

   It was my mother. There wasn’t anyway to lie and say the noise was me falling on the ground, hurting my foot. It worked on the football pitch, not here.

   Here, I was officially doomed.

   My mother stared me down and said nothing.

   “Seeing that you finally good at something,” she said after the clapping motion had ended. “Here,” she handed me a mug. “Break another one . . .”

   My father always told me that women said one thing and meant another.

   ‘Surely my mom wasn’t one of them,’ I thought as I took my stress out on the mug.

. . .

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