The brat in the office

For the past three days, due to circumstances of mamma not having a babysitter, the brat has been accompanying mamma to office. The brat in the office is a surefire chick magnet, and all the women from adjoining offices have been dropping in to initiate conversation with him, given that he is loud enough to announce his presence to the entire floor.
He stomps into the premises with his Spiderman skating shoes which have a sole high enough for Salman Khan to want to pinch the pair, with skates tucked inside the sole which can be whisked out for skating down the aisles at the press of a button. Have skates, will skate is the motto, and so the rather dour office block we are in reverberates with the squeals of the brat rolling down the long polished passageways with the driver or a peon in hot pursuit to avoid him careening into stairs and railings or glass doors. All the while, Mamma taps away furiously at her computer in a bid to finish off her work quickly enough to avoid any major mishap on the premises. Around half an hour of skating later, he will skip into the office and ursurp the first available computer and insist someone puts on 'googils search with Badman gamez" for him. All the while hollering for Mamma to order One Happy Meel wid Chickenbuggawidcheez an a Doraemon toy, nod d rocket one becauz I aledy have two of dat. The Happy Meal will arrive, and the toy accompanying the meal (euphemistically called a meal because all it has edible is a burger, and a carbonated beverage which the brat is not allowed to sniff at thanks to the rotting state of his teeth which has already had mamma shell out half her life's earning in the milk stage itself) will be first opened up, and then some rolling on the floor will happen because this is not the toy that was wanted, it was another toy, one that his best fren had and had brought down to the park yestuday. The chickabuggawidcheez will be ingested and mamma will hope for an hour or so of peace, and send him off to take a round of the mall (our office is in a mall/shopping arcade) to keep him entertained with the princely sum of Rs 50 to buy whatever his heart desires. Now that amount would probably get flung back at you by any self respecting beggar these days, so the brat has to labour long and hard to find something that fits into it. Sometimes the father will take mercy on the spawn of the womb when he makes periodic appearances in the midst of his window shopping, and yell out to mamma from the main entrance below (we have a two level office, and mamma sits on the upper level), "Wad I'll buy. I canna find anything for fifty rupees!" and hike down to the shops to buy him a chocolate and return back bearing overflowing bags with Tshirts and shorts, and chocolates and totally unnecessary Ben 10 toys. At which point Mamma will smite her forehead and decide that the brat will stay at home the next day. It is becoming too expensive for him to start learning the ropes of the business right away. And the next day, Mamma still doesnt have a babysitter, and so the brat is hauled back to the office. Rinse, repeat.