Definition no. 11
Happiness is a remote control car!
Or, better, three of them, rushing wildly at the same time, killing my internal ear with their decibels, causing me to feel dizzy and to want to stop it all, at once.
Instead, I bear with the tremendous rumbling in the living room.
I take shelter on the sofa and watch with frowned eyes the three cars racing between the furniture and I pray that the batteries will run flat in a few minutes.
There’s silence for a moment, an argument. I play the referee. The chaos is unleashed. Glee!
The boys laugh and cheer and imitate the sound of the screeching wheels.
Their faces radiate joy and sweet elation. Time stopped around them. The world ceased from spinning. They giggle and scream and jump around. They chase the cars, startle when they hit each other on purpose or by mistake!
Almost the same every year when they discover their granted wishes in the boots they had carefully polished and set in front of the window for Sinterklaas. They know that they are good boys and that the Saint will not forget them. Nor will he forget mom and dad. They are good parents too, they deserve a present too. There’s a slipper for them as well.
Happiness is a remote control car multiplied by 3!