As we get older, our physical appearance gives us away. I have a—how do you say—a little patch on my cheek which is a shade darker than my usual complexion. Hormonal changes and time had it growing from a tiny dot many years ago into a much bigger one now, sized like a five cents coin.
Vain as I am, I try to mask it by applying all sorts of whitening cream to camouflage or reduce its diameter. And it works.
The girls had gotten used to it over the years but not too long ago, they noticed the prominent ‘Mummy feature’ is no longer prominent. So much so, sometimes they say I am an imposter!
There was one night many months ago, M2 peered at me and queried,”Are you my mummy?”
“Of course I am!” I asserted.
“Do the Mummy test,” M1 said.
And I was given the Mummy Test: “What is one plus one?”
Obligingly I would say the correct answer and they looked at each other and beamed, “Phew! It’s Mummy alright.”
It is an on-going family thing that whenever they doubt me, they’d throw this silly question at me for verification. If I give the answer “Two”, M2 would raise her eyebrows and say, “You’re an impostor! Where is my mummy?”
The silly things and rules we have at home…
Angieneering 
Remarks