The phone rings. The tone of the caller is authoritative yet empathetic. I hurriedly shut down my computer, pack my bags and rush out of the door towards the parked car. As I drive over, a hundred thoughts cross my mind...is he OK?....what made him do that? why didnt I see it coming?.....
The center is noisy with kids just awoken from their afternoon naps. Babies are crying, toddlers are chit-chatting, teachers are ordering kids around. I step into the room, scanning for him. My eyes take a moment to find him amidst some kids running, some playing. Cots with blankets and pillows are still on the floor, to be put away.
And then I see him. Slouched on his chair, his finger in his mouth, with a forlorn look observing his friends from afar. Someone yelled, "hey D, look who is here?"
He turns around, smiles half-heartedly and comes running over to me with his arms outstretched. As soon as he hugs me, he bursts into tears.
I pull him closer to me, his clothes reeking, the smell almost nauseating.
His teacher brings over his bedding wrapped up in a plastic bag, all soggy, wet and smelling of rot. Just once she said, but it was quite a lot. He didnt eat any thing at lunch.
He looks up to me, his face streaked with tears. Then with the saddest yet sweetest voice, he says,
Mama, I threw up. A lot.
I want to go home.
Take me home.
I smell.
Note: He ends the day throwing up four times, driving me and hubby dear to worry! But come next day, he was back to being him. Phew!!
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