Foster-mother

When we have to tell the truth
Can we bear to tell him?
Before he enters his teens
That's the deadline given us;
There's a story they said we can use ---
Of the divine heir to a throne
Spirited away from his killers
Growing up with a foster-mother
Till the time was ripe ---
I feel helpless like Yasodha
When he makes my head spin
With toys, stainless steel cups and spoons changing avatars
Becoming one character after another in the stories
He retells like a mythological tale;
Before my very eyes
He changed from a babe to a toddler
Suddenly standing up, holding the wall
Then stumbling forward, falling, getting up, trying again
It was like a Viswaroopa.