My grandma is a tank. She is scary. Sometimes she beats us with her stick. My cousin Umar says she looks like this:
But that's because he's scared of her because he eats with his feet sometimes and she doesn't like those kind of manners.
So when dad told us that she was going to Pakistan, we were all like:
But when he told us that we were going with her, we were all like:
When we got to Pakistan, Uncle Naseer came to pick us up from the airport. He brought his family along for the ride. Granny had already gone ahead with cousin Imran on his motorbike. She was driving.
Uncle Naseer and Aunty Teepee were ecstatic to see us! They smiled and kissed us and hugged us lots, and their three little children shyly shook our hands. Then they ushered us into their car, a 3-seater Peugeot.
There were ten of us.
The car was so tiny and so unable to take all our weight, that whenever we got to the smallest of bumps in the road, the car couldn't make it and we had to all get out and push.
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