I widened my eyes, feigning anger.
"Mo, enough of your antics. Empty that milk glass now."
The unhappy kid surrendered, drank the milk at one go, and banged the glass down.
Just as I was about to chide him for that, he flashed a impish, toothy smile!
"Ma, see, I have a moustache like Baba"! He squealed out of joy.
Had I looked back, I would have seen a tiny me, flaunting my milky moustache to my Ma, decades ago. But now, there was no looking back. There he was, a part of me, growing up in front of me.