Mrs. and Mr. Scooter

Guys, this is a tri-scooter.

You stand on it on one feet and thrust yourself forward or backward by pushing the ground with another.

Your speed is dependent on the force you exert.

At home, it is the property of Hakim, the hilarious little boy who cannot cycle a bicycle yet. That is why mom buy him scooter after scooter.

Oh, the boy has this tendency to play his toy to smithereens. You should see his toy laptops. I count three collecting dust under the tv cabinet.

Hakim is quite a pro with his scooter. He uses Mr. Scooter to commute from the kitchen for his snacks and to the lounge for his books.

(Hakim tak berpuasa, Hakim ber’kuasa’.)

Now that I am back, it is my obligation to play along with his toys. I mean, sharing is caring, right?

So I hop on the scooter and commute from the kitchen for my snacks (ba’di tarawih, mazbuut) and to the lounge for my laptop.

At top speed. Yohoooo! Skid to a halt in front of the reading boy.

“Angah, kenapa main scooter Hakim?!”

“Hish,” Jump off Mr. Scooter. “Kedekut.”

I resume my seat in front of the laptop, continue to download ebook after ebook (I’m supposed to re-download Maple Story for the gazillionth time, but I lack the necessary patience.) while munching my kuih.

The young boy dutifully drag his scooter back to the his toy garage, which is actually his  piling of toys on the carpet in front of the tv.

My kuih is finished. I need more.

Glance around for the scooter. Scooter feen?

I walk myself to the scooter parked in front of the glaring Playhouse Disney. Steady myself on it. Take a step and-

“Kak ngah, scooter tu ada had berat. Nanti patah.”

It is mom, watching me from the kitchen.

“Tak leh ke Ika nak main?”

“Nanti patah.”

“Okay la…”

Again, I jump off. Walk to the kitchen and grab another hot kuih. Stare discontentedly at Hakim on full speed on Mr. Scooter.

He stops by his futon. Turns around and waves at the static scooter.

“Bye, scooter. Hakim nak tidur.”

I laugh.