At dinner table

In this memory, I am five and my little brother is two. It is dinner time and we all sit around the tiny dining table in our tiny kitchen. I am seated in front of the fridge, my mother in front of the microwave, and my father in front of the washing machine. My little brother is sitting on his high chair between me and my mother with his bib on.

As I sit down, I find a bottle of ketchup on the table. I immediately pick it up and take a small amount on my finger.

“Mommy, look!” I shout as I wave my finger in front of her. “Blood! Blood!”

My mother is too busy arranging the food on the table, but my brother notices me and says he also wants the ketchup on his finger. So, I give him some.

“Mommy!” We both wave our fingers in front of our mother. “Blood, blood!”

“Now, stop that nonsense and start eating,” says my mother. She knows what we are talking about without even looking at the ketchup on our fingers.

Next, I start shaking my head. There is no meaning to it, but I am so full of energy that I cannot just sit still. As I shake my head, my semi long hair spreads around my face, and I like that feeling.

Next to me, my brother follows my lead. We both shake our heads fast, and we laugh at our dancing hairs.

“Stop, stop!” Now, my father is upset. He does not want our hairs to fly into the food. “You both need to calm down. For goodness sake, It’s dinner time!”

And finally, my brother and I stop playing. We look at each other and laugh once more before we start eating.