Sudden Revelation

Ravi was always a finicky eater and pushed porridge around with a spoon until it became a thick glue-y consistency before he made a big show of getting it down his reluctant throat. He never had more than four spoons full of cornflakes unless they were the sugar loaded ‘frosties’ variety. Griddle cakes were devoured rapidly if hot, but if cold, turned up with a disdainful down turned mouth.

The reason I was even pondering upon his pampered tastes was because he had, for the past week, brought home an empty lunch box. It was licked clean, I’d have sworn.

He must have developed a healthy appetite from all that PE they have in school.

I put the lunch box in the sink to wash later and just rummaged in his bag for his handkerchief. He always thrust it in there, crumpled into a grimy ball. He’d have no room for books if I didn’t unearth these paraphernalia each day.

My hand found the soft folds and drew out the linen square. It was more a muddy brown than the pristine white it had been in the morning. I shook my head in exasperation and decided it was high time he realised handkerchiefs were not for cleaning mud off his shoes.

I unscrewed its twists and saw a large blotch of mustard on it. Mustard? But he had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches today.

I groped around again, but there was no other kerchief there. This was today’s one, obviously. Then how did the mustard get there?

“Raavvviiii” was the yell that requested his immediate presence. He was in his room, dawdling over changing out of his school clothes.

Footsteps thudded down the passage and he skidded into the kitchen on his socks. An innocent gaze was upturned to mine, his disordered curls tumbling onto his forehead. He offered me a wide smile to excuse his tardiness; it usually melted my heart enough to smile back. Right now, however, I was in an avenging mood.

“I haven’t changed yet Mommy,” He tried to defuse accusation by the apologetic confession; he knew that he had to wash and change before sitting down to milk and cookies.

I bent the sternest look I could conjure upon him and placed my arms akimbo as reinforcement of my serious attitude.

His attitude became rather subdued as he tried to think which of his various misdeeds had come to light.

“Ravi, I know you exchanged your 'tiffin'

a light lunch or snack

today.” I bluffed with authority.

His head just made a gesture of negativity, obviously not wanting to commit himself orally.

I knew his best buddy loved peanut butter and his mother often made him BLT sandwiches which he abhorred. I took an inspired leap of reasoning.

“You exchanged sandwiches with Aditya, and you have been trading lunches all week.”

I expected a stricken or cowed look, but instead a reverent awe spread across that tender face.

He scampered out in a fizzy excitement and I could hear him yelling to his sister, “Mommy can read minds. She has super-powers!”

Word count: 511



Written for the Night Girl's Summer Nights Challenge.
Free prompt on the last night, so I did the one I missed - Short Story Night.
Short Story between 500 and 1500 words.
Prompt
Someone develops a super power