Conversation in the car

We are on the way- 3 kids, me and a cake- to celebrate the birthday of their Anjali Masi.

"Where does Anjali Masi live?" Asks the curious Peanut.

"In America."

"We are going to AMERICA?"

"No, no" I clarify "she is coming to Gitanjali-masi's house. We are meeting there"

It occurs to me that Peanut may not be very clear on the relationship so I ask "do you know who Anju Masi is?"

"Yes. She is the one who came yesterday to our house"

"No- I mean do you know how she is related to you?"

"Yes. She is my fake Masi."

"What!! No..."

"But Gitanjali Masi is my real Masi, so Anju Masi is my fake Masi."

After a few moments of my clarifying the concept of cousins etc, something else strikes her.

"So her mother lives here and she lives in America?"

"Of course. That's how it works when you grow up."

Peanut looks worried "I am always going to live with you."

Now it's my turn to look worried "but peanut... You have to move out someday... When you're all grown up.. Like 20 years old..."

"No! Never!!"

"What about when you get married?"

"Even then! I will get my husband to move in..."

I am digesting this declaration when Pickle pipes up.

"I will build my own house."

"See?" I turn to Peanut again "even your brother will build his own house."

"I also" Papad is never far behind his bro.

"Both of them will live in their own houses" I beam at my Sons.

"I will build of straw..." Says Pickle.

"I will build of sticks..." Says Papad.

Oh.

 I say to Peanut "Even the Three Little Pigs moved out when they grew up..."

She just crosses her arms and glares at me. And then snaps "Well, that's because they're just PIGS!"

- I have nothing more to say and the topic is closed. - 

Conversation with Peanut

Y: How was school today, Peanut?

P: Fine.

Y: What did you learn today?

P: Nothing.

Y: Nothing?

P: I mean, I learnt something but I forgot.

Y: Oh okay.

(Philosophical silence while she munches her lunch)

Y: (Restless) Peanut, what do you think is the purpose of life?

P: What, Mama?

Y: Why are we on this planet?

P: (Thinks for a second) Because there is water here.

Y: (Stunned, and then recovers) Yes, but why were we born?

P: Corn, Mama?

Y: BORN.

P: Lorn?

Y: (Catching on) Very funny. You can hear me just fine. I asked, why were we born?

P: (Sagely) I know Daddy was born first.

Y: Yes, but WHY?

P: (Getting irritated now) Because it was his birthday.

Y: (Also getting irritated) You are not providing me with the answers to life. What is LIFE?

P: (At the end of her tether) Life is LOVE, okay?

We both stare at each other for a moment and then she starts laughing. I join her and we are both happy.

Right, she is, every single time. 

My Family Says Strange Things

After the 'Preponderance' incident, my children demonstrate they take after their father.

Peanut (in a mocking tone to me, peeping out of the tenthouse I have foolishly purchased for my children) - Hanna Ka Montana!
Me (shocked at the tone as well as the realization that she's heard about Hannah Montana from somewhere) - Do you even know that that means?
Peanut (in an even more derisive tone than before): It's a Human Being.

And then, when we have a visitor - a conservative family member from Vijay's side, who has come to visit my Father-in-law at home. I am sitting in uncomfortable silence sipping tea, trying to find something to say to this gentleman who is from another world, and has dropped by unannounced. I catch sight of the twins peeping out cautiously at the stranger.
The stranger is as relieved as I am that we no longer have to rack our brains on what to say to each other. He invites them 'Idhar aao, Idhar Aao'.
My relief changes to horror as I hear my twins whispering to each other in their baby babble and then arriving at the consensus 'E Motu Uncle Hai.'
Cursing my husband for teaching them the phrase Motu Uncle, I abandon my cup of tea and hurriedly run into the babies room to lock them in for the rest of the visit. 

Peanut's Day Out

Of late, Peanut has been kind of bringing herself up - well, it's not as bad as all that but the twins definitely stake their claim on my time, and attempt to beat her and each other up if they sense any competition in their quest for Mommy-time.

So I thought that since Vijay and I were taking a day off to accomplish some long-pending chores, at least a part of the day would be spent taking Peanut to the Kingdom of Dreams. Vijay had to do something else during that time, so I said I would take her myself and was secretly quite pleased to get some alone time with her.

I took her to the Culture Gully and we spent a blissful three hours there, mostly eating - what else can a four-year old do there apart from playing in the sandpit, which she did for a while too.

We started with Jalebis! She had about five by herself, which delighted and alarmed me in equal measure.

One nos. Peanut stuffing herself with five nos. Jalebis

She then started 'counting all the pretty things', which was my idea but after a while I had to request her to stop because it was driving me nuts.

Then we walked around, and she played in the sand while I watched with unusual satisfaction, and then we wrapped it up with a meal of some Chicken Noodles at the Tangra Market restaurant - luckily we were also witness to a very nice dance - I missed the announcement about where it was from but at the risk of sounding almost as culturally ignorant as I actually am, all I can say is that it involved a lot of skilful hopping around between large sticks and struck me as distinctly North-Eastern. Peanut enjoyed it, and that's what counts.

Peanut Posing outside the Culture Gully. She has my fake camera smile!

It was a fun day, and a great break between vaccinations for 3 screaming kids, dental appointments for 3 screaming kids and dealing with getting the wood-working done for a flat one is trying to put on rent, visiting a dear recuperating grandmother, while simultaneously attempting to finish setting up home in a newly-moved-into rented accommodation and about a hundred other little things.

Net -net on the Kingdom of Dreams Culture Gully - The place is nice, but I did kind of expect it to be bigger and have more stuff to do. But it's done up beautifully and I was quite amazed at having been so out of it that this was actually my first visit there!

P.S - I came back and proudly showed Vijay my 'Royal Card' telling him enthusiastically that this would entitle us to Rs.200 off for every subsequent visit. He only shook his head and said ''I can't believe you work in Marketing''. But what does he know, anyway! He's only a husband.

P.P.S - Trying to post pics of Peanut on her Day Out, but blogger is out to get me today. Later.

My Daddy, My Hero. For Peanut. Apparently.

I read a notice yesterday in Peanut's diary from school that said she had to dress up as a family member who inspires her, and that she had chosen her Father.

I was a little hurt, but asked nonchalantly 'Peanut, why didn't you want to dress up as Mama?'

She thought about this for a minute before she answered, and as she spoke, her agitation became clear 'Mama! How can I dress up as you and Daddy both? I am only ONE child', she said, holding out one finger at me to make her point.

I hastened to clarify 'No, Peanut. I meant...why did you choose Daddy and NOT Mama?'

'Oh' She said, dismissively 'Because you always scold me and Daddy doesn't scold me'.

I felt very bad about this but decided not to pursue the matter further. It's true that I've been scolding her of late. Even though things have improved drastically in the last month, the child ungratefully refuses to pick up on it. No matter, I think, and I browse the diary further. 'Oh it says you have to choose a dialogue...one thing that Daddy says a lot. What will you say?'

Pat came the answer ' Peanut, eat your food right now or you will get a smack-y!'

Oh Dear, Dear.

Eventually, the line she chose was ' Peanut, give me a huggy and a kissy. I'm going to Bombay'. But she also chose an extra line 'Peanut, don't sulk and fuss, just eat your food now'. She seems hell-bent on making her point about the food issue.

She wanted to wear Vijay's T-shirt, but he convinced her that dressing 'like him' didn't mean dressing in his clothes. She instead wore jeans and a grey boyish T-shirt. I tried to do her hair, sweeping it along her forehead like his, but she took one look at it and refused to go out like that.

I can't believe this child has grown up so much, so quickly.

Two more to go!

And hopefully at least one of the twins will want to dress up like me in about 3 years. Yes, there's always hope!

Just So Much Going ON!

So Peanut is starting school tomorrow. Fingers crossed and all that. Have to drop her to the school, and praying that she settles in nicely.

A week or so back, we went for her 'graduation' ceremony. The playschool had put up a really nice show, with dancing, singing, a play - the works. The kids did a commendable job and it was really quite amazing for me to see Peanut dancing demurely to Swagatam, she and her little partner flawlessly performing the steps.

However, she looked a little bit lost while dancing although I was totally entranced. Vijay said 'She's looking for us...'. It was difficult for her to see us because we were sitting right in the back - Vijay, me, my mother and Vijay's dad. The teachers had announced specifically before the show started that we were not to wave out to and distract our children while they were performing.

Being one who tries to follow official instructions to the absolute T, I told Vijay that we should not wave to our daughter, it would perhaps throw her off and that we should listen to the authorities.

Peanut went off stage, still looking a little lost. She hadn't spotted us. I felt a little bad but figured maybe she would perk up in the next performance. This was a play in which she was acting as 'Sita', the friend of Mowgli, in the Hansel and Gretel play ( don't ask, okay?). Her line was 'Look Mowgli, we have company!' and she had practiced at home several times.

The play was on and Peanut came on stage, looking like a little doll in a blue lehenga. The time rolled around for her to say her line, and I waited with bated breath.

My daughter forgot her line.

The teacher narrating the story smoothly jumped in with her line, but I felt bad - not that she had missed her line, but how she might feel about it. I turned to talk to Vijay about it and did a double take when I noticed he was gone from the seat next to me.

I looked back at Peanut and noted a change in her demeanour. She had perked up and was doing a little wave to someone at the back of the audience. Sure enough, it was my tall, gangly husband - her tall, gangly Daddy - who was determined to have his way and make sure that she saw him. She was now smiling and he headed back to his seat and since she was watching him, she could now see the rest of us too. She was very happy, and it was time for the 'Chaddi pehen ke song' which Mowgli and his friends were to dance on, and boy, did Sita rock it on this number!

She swayed, jumped, wiggled her bum and did a wonderful job with more enthusiasm than I had ever seen at home. Vijay and I were clapping along, and she finally waltzed off the stage with full confidence.

I had to admit. The husband does a good job with his free-wheeling and instinctive parenting. Much better than the by-the-book approach sometimes that some people take a teeny-tiny bit too seriously at times.

That's why we make a great team.

P.S - I actually cried during the graduation. I couldn't believe she had grown up so much.
P.P.S - I asked at the office today how many people cried after India won the World cup. Four out of nine people put up their hands. Just out of curiosity ( am not a cricket fan at all) - did you?

When Your 3 year old

Comes up to you and says...

'Mama. You love me all the time. I know that. But sometimes when you scold me, I get so very utset. Humph'.

...and then goes off with a dignified trot...

You're left staring after her open-mouthed wondering where that suddenly came from - and then think

'Yeah. That's my girl'.

Car-versations

A few days ago, I was dropping Peanut off to school on my way to work. I absent-mindedly started to put on a little lipstick - something I hadn't done in ages.

I finished and looked over to see Peanut gazing at me curiously.

'Mama, your lips are all brown'.

I checked myself out in the rear view mirror and said 'Yes. They are, aren't they. Do I look nice?'

She nodded enthusiastically, with a very bright, naughty smile, and added 'You look just like a lady'.

I was really surprised to hear this word from her and asked 'Do you even know what a lady is?'

She nodded again knowingly and said 'Yes'.

I challenged her 'Who is a lady?'

'Didu is a lady' was the firm reply ( referring to my mother)

This was undeniable, but I asked 'How do you know?'

She was looking out the window now, losing interest fast. She remarked over her shoulder 'Because she has brown lips'.


Circular reasoning, but I found it so adorable that I tried to cover her face in kisses, and was pushed away saying 'Not with brown lips, mama...your lips are all sticky...'

We started to repeat this exercise with only minor variations every day. She enjoys reminding me to put on my lipstick, and then informing me that my lips are all brown and that I look like a lady but I cannot kiss her because my lips are all sticky. Except that occasionally she mixes up the word 'sticky' with 'stinky', which is very flattering.

So a few days later when we were returning home after a picnic with my sister in law and her daughter, 2-year old Nikita, the conversation in the car went as follows -

Nikita, looking at my shades in Peanut's hands, said 'What's that thingy, Peanut?'

Peanut replied with some heat 'I am NOT Stinky Peanut'.

It was amusing enough until she decided to clarify 'My MAMA be all stinky. Every DAY'.

Thanks, kid. Love you too.

But I WANT to lean on the Brudda...

Peanut tends to get upset when we ask her to be gentle with her brothers. She is very fond of them and wants to kiss them and clamber all over them, all the time. Especially when she caught an infection, we tried our best to get some distance between her and them but it didn't really work.

She displays amazing resilience -after a brief sulk in a corner, wherein she tells anybody passing by that some offender (me or Vijay usually) had the temerity to tell her 'Not to lean on the Brudda', she bounces back and comes back to do the exact same thing.

Admirable tenacity. Admirable.

That's my girl.

Be Careful What You Say to Peanut

...because almost 3-year olds may take things literally.

I was snuggling up to her last night and trying to express how I felt about her, and thought I would use terms she would understand.

Y: 'Peanut...I love you...more than I love chocolate, you know? And icecream...and...'
Peanut (eyes wide open with alarm): 'NO, Mama!'
I was taken aback by this reaction, until she continued

'You have to NOT eat me!'

Peanut Hates School

When I put Peanut into her playschool last year, she had a settling period of a few weeks. She was barely two at the time, but after she settled in, it was mostly no issue getting her there for a few hours everyday. I would drop her on my way to work, and it was pretty cool.

Then, a few weeks ago, the protests began. She started informing me 'The gates are closed' very firmly, and made up all sorts of excuses to not go.

Her teachers usually write progress updates as short notes in her diary, and a day too late, I noticed that the timing for her 'Swimming pool day has been changed' because 'She has been moved to another class'. Another class? Why would they do that, I thought. That day, I went and checked with them about it.

Turns out Peanut is one of the few 'advanced' kids who was developing faster than the others and was therefore automatically shifted to a class which was a few months ahead. Unlike a couple of the other kids of this type, she didn't kick up a bloody racket and therefore they assumed she is settling in fine over there and just merrily kept her there.

Ummm. Isn't this the kind of thing that should usually be discussed with a parent, I thought.

I informed them that the changeover probably wasn't going as smoothly as they thought, considering that she now was disliking going to school. She was used to the the kids in her class, and had made a couple of close friends there over the last year, and the other big plus was that her fantastic teacher from the previous year had also moved into the higher grade when she moved a few months back. I requested that she be put back to her old class.

They made a fuss and tried to talk me out of it. They insisted it was for her own development. Would eventually help her when she went for admission to the 'big school'. Each child had to be given time to settle in. I felt a bit guilty, a parent who was holding her child back. I said maybe we'd give it another couple of days. After all, a kid does need to face changes in life and has to adjust anyway, I told myself reluctantly. Also, I knew at least part of my reason for wanting a shift was my personal bias for the old teacher and the slight dislike for the new teacher.

The next couple of days were still an issue getting Peanut to school. She started saying 'That boy she pushed me'...and 'That uncle is bad uncle'...and all sorts of things, including at night, dreading sleep. I had no idea if the issues were related, but I knew this wasn't working out right.

Vijay and I went back there again to talk to the principal-in-charge - she listened but was mouthing pretty much the same words about 'giving a child the space to adjust'. While we were talking to her, all the kids were outside singing something in some sort of morning assembly, right outside the office. I saw Peanut standing there in a corner, in line with her classmates while her old classmates and teacher merrily sang along at the other end. She looked around confusedly, and her face began to crumple, and her eyes filled up with tears. She finally caught sight of me staring from the principal's office and the tears started streaming down her face. I pointed this out to the principal, she looked out and immediately went and brought her into the office. While Peanut sobbed into Vijay's shirt, the principal agreed they would put her back.

The issue was that there were now only a few days left for school to give out for the summer holidays. We still had to face reluctance taking Peanut to school in the morning ( reluctance is a mild word), although she was happier when she came back. But the episode ruined our chances for Happy Summer Camp Time - as soon as school ended, summer camp in the same premises - with the new teacher supervising, unfortunately - were to start up. I had enrolled her for the first two weeks, but I think she ended up going only for six days. So now I've given up, and she's going to be at home till the 4th of July.

I just think that that's about the time the twins are coming, and there's going to be plenty to adjust to in any case. Not really looking forward to re-selling the idea of school to her. Even now, after a week of not going to either school/summer camp, she still starts blubbering at the idea and says 'I no want to no go to no school' and reaffirms 'The gates are closed, Mama'. I've told her she's not going for a while. But eventually, of course, she has to. And all this is before the saga of the 'big school', which I've merrily put off thinking about, even begins. This parenting stuff is great.

Anyway, I somehow had a feeling about some of these teachers. While the playschool overall is great, I've heard some of them being a little snappish with the kids. Very...teacher-like. Not warm, like the old teacher, who really is a sweetheart and who at the last PTA meeting, actually welled up while talking affectionately about the development of the kids in her class in general.

But net-net, about putting her back into the old class? All my qualms disappeared when I was looking through her recent craft work, which she apparently 'diligently and quietly' did in her new class. As against the usually encouraging and overly-enthusiastic remarks about her progress from her old teacher, the new teacher had tartly remarked on one poorly scrawled on drawing 'Needs to improve her coloring skills'.

I actually laughed out loud in disbelief. Needs to improve her coloring skills? Really? Towards what end? Eventually restoring the Mona Lisa? So what should I do? Tutor her painstakingly myself, smacking her hand everytime she wants to colour an elephant orange or her crayon goes out of line? Or maybe just send her to Special Coloring School?

Yeah, give me unrealistic and overenthusiastic and warm, anyday. I'll take that over 'advanced'. After all, the kid isn't even three years old yet!

Clearly, there's enough of that crap coming up in life later.

Bah!

Things Peanut Says

Thought I'd just list a few:

* 'Mama, you cheeks soft like a bay-bee.
...and You got be-yootifool pimples'.

Yes, one of the various side effects of impending re-maternity is a return of the acne. In the form of a few bright spots on either of my cheeks - which show no hope of getting better since Peanut enjoys pawing them with her grubby paws while snuggling up to me. Oh yes, and once she broke into 'Pimples...pimples...' to the tune of 'Fimbles...Fimbles' on Ceebeebies.

* 'No, Mama, you no gorjus. Baby gorjus!'

We're kind of vain when we're dressing up in the morning for school and office. We like to look in the mirror when we're ready and admire ourselves and fight about who's more gorjus.

* 'Mama...you are so very nangu!'

Err...kind of stating the obvious when we're having a bath.

* 'Daddy, aapi-aapi karo'

Said very matter-of-factly when Vijay is pretending to be helpless and trying to get her to feed him some fruit.

*' Nappy aaya...Poo-poo pehna do'

We're trying with the potty training and keep her out of her nappy most times, but she insists on wearing it for pooping. She of course means 'Poopoo aaya, nappy pehna do' but is under a bit of stress at such times so mixes it up.

* 'My baby sister in my tummy...and he gonna come ouuut!'

Umm...Yeah. I'm glad we explained the concept of your baby brother/sister Pickle just right. Well done, Vijay and Y.

Imagine if you will...

It is Diwali time.

You are at your In-laws.

Your in-laws are chaste, vegetarian Brahmins.

After seven years of marriage, they pretty much suspect you are not.

Yet, you are respectful enough to throw out (okay, hide) the non-veg stuff in the house when they visit, especially since you know it makes your mother in law sick.

Even eggs.

So, it's a harmonious balance that has been struck.

And now imagine, if you will.

It is dinner time during Diwali.

Your little Peanut is cheerfully perched on a chair right next to yours.

She is eating plain rice, her favorite dish.

Her Grandma asks her to also eat her sabzi - some alu-gobi, your husband's favorite - and therefore, ubiquitous dish.

Your Peanut looks suspiciously at the alu-gobi.

Reaches out and pokes one piece of the alu.

And then brightly and happily proclaims

'Chickunnn!'

You feel yourself sliding to the floor under the table while your husband chuckles through a mouthful of sabzi and roti, and your in-laws graciously pretend not to hear.

The joy. The infinite joy.

The PTA Meeting

Last week, before Diwali, Vijay and I went to meet Peanut's teachers at her playschool, for our very first PTA Meeting.

First of all, of course, we got ready at the last possible minute and I was getting extremely agitated. Leaving a bewildered Peanut behind, we rushed off and landed up just in the nick of time. We waited around, smiling blandly at the other parents and were soon called in to meet her teachers - Neena and Niti.

Neena did most of the talking, and I found myself warming up to her even more than before - she spoke in a very affectionate way about Peanut and told us about the developments she and Niti had observed in the past few weeks.

This, therefore, is the public image of Peanut:

* She is a very sweet, tender, gentle and well-disciplined child
(Really? I think of the temper tantrums at home)

* She is very assiduous about her work and always puts back her things when asked to do so.
( Her favorite game at home is throwing my books of the shelves, stepping all over them gingerly and pretending to be deaf when I ask her to help me pick them up)

* She does not really communicate verbally, but through gestures it is clear she absorbs everything.
( When Vijay and I are at home, Peanut is the only one who talks. If we try, she resorts to varying levels of the word 'Aaaaa' in order to get us to pay attention to her, finally resulting in screaming if we continue to try and have a conversation).

* She loves music and dance, her favorite song is Bum Bum Bhole.
( This is undisputable - except I think her favorite song is 'Soni De Nakhre' but they probably don't expose a lot of that kind of music to vulnerable toddlers in school)

*She shares an unspoken bond with two kids called Karan and Khushi, and they often are observed doing their activities together and sharing things.
( I am delighted at this. Vijay spends the next few days in deep suspicion, asking Peanut at sudden intervals in an ingratiating manner 'Beta, Karan kaun hai?)

* She is the darling of the class ( wonder if they say that to all parents...nah!) - and is so adorable that all the kids often jump all over her, especially during dance sessions. The teachers are very fond of her and protect her from the rowdier boys ( I could feel Vijay bristling beside me) - and the teachers' special name for her is Tinkerbell.
(This I did not know. And when I went home later and called her Tinkerbell, she got a very special kind of shy smile - when I asked her who calls her that, she said 'Neenaanty'. )

* I was very touched by the description of how they suddenly one day observed her saying her rhymes along with the other kids - Neena says she saw her and held her breath, and gripped Niti's arm and pointed and they both stared in silent delight at her mouthing all the words correctly. ( This kind of excitement really amazed me - I always thought I was the only one who took a real interest in Peanut's little achievements but their delight seemed genuine. I like these people. And yes, Peanut says all sorts of rhymes at home and also sings Andy Pandy and the Teletubbies and the Boogie Beebies theme songs with me)

Anyway, that's about that. I leave you with a couple of older pictures from a school function. In the first one, she's the one in the audience who can't sit still. In the second, she's on stage doing 'Row Row...'

How grown up are WE?

Me: Honey, don't forget - tomorrow is our Parent-Teacher Meeting with Peanut's teacher - at 9.50 a.m.
Vijay: Do we have to take Peanut along?
Me: No, I checked with them at school - she can stay at home.
Vijay: Okay.

(Thoughtful Silence)

Vijay: Honey - it's our first Parent Teacher Meeting? Already?
Me: (Struck by this thought) Yes

(Wondering Silence)

Me: Does this mean we're growing up?
Vijay: I think so.

(Apprehensive silence)

Me: And old?
Vijay (almost immediately) Yes

(Brooding silence).

And for once, there was no mention of 'How fast our little girl is growing up'. It's all about us this time.

Sigh.

Parental Instincts

Mother's instinct....

I'm sitting, playing with Peanut on the bed. She's in a giggly mood, and is flopping all over the place. I turn to talk to Vijay, and see out of the corner of my eye that Peanut is doing a backward flop with full gusto.

I also notice simultaneously that my husband has foolishly left his laptop on the edge of the bed, which is where my baby's head is going to land in the next few milliseconds.

Time stands still for me, my heart skips a beat. Without thinking, my hand lashes out and thwacks the baby's head, deflecting her in the nick of time. She lands safely, her head narrowly missing the laptop, although her happy eight-toothed grin is wiped off her face, and startled by my intervention, she starts to cry loudly.

Father's instinct...

Vijay has so far been but a mute observer to this event, but now he leaps into action. But to my shock, instead of congratulating me on my quick action, he simply uses the opportunity to win some brownie points with the baby, immediately pouncing upon the wailing, confused child and saying...

'Oh my poor little one...Mama ne maara?...Dada ke paas aao...Dada nahin marega...'.

Whatever. He's just lucky he didn't get the laptop against his head.

Assorted...

Vijay: Your happy burday is coming up! What would you like, honey?
Y ( thinking hard): Well, I'm a simple person with simple tastes. I think all I want is you to take me to the zoo on Sunday.
Vijay: Whatttt?
Y: Why? What's wrong? It'll be really nice. Peanut can come too.
Vijay: Ummm....
Y: What is with you? Why can't we just go for a nice family outing on a Sunday? Why do you bother asking? I've been told the Delhi Zoo is quite nice.
Vijay (relieved) : Oh, ZOO! I thought you said 'Loo'...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The fight for Peanut's affection has officially begun.

Over the last few days, Peanut has lost around ten percent of her cling-iness to me. She now exhibits a definite excitement about Vijay's return from office, and actually fusses over and hugs him - as opposed to her almost constant irritation with him over the previous two months or so.

She still prefers that I do most of her stuff for her, but I get at least a little bit of relief nowadays when she allows Vijay to occasionally do something.

Vijay stayed at home a day or so over the last couple of weeks, and before I knew it, he had sneakily taught her to say 'Dada' as a response to his query 'Peanut kiski beti hai?'. He did this by the simple means of saying it over and over himself until she started to do so, and then reinforcing it with loud claps and 'yaayyyys'.

So the last time I finished changing her nappy, after a great deal of difficulty -because she insisted on getting up and running away, teetering on the edge of the bed many times - he stood around watching from a distance, and finally asked her 'Peanut kiski beti hai?', and she automatically replied, almost before he finished his question 'Dada'.

Vijay clapped loudly, said 'Yayyy' and then cackled for a long while, summing it all up with a shot at me ' Honey...ghar tum banao...par nameplate mera...'

.......................................................................................................................

But who cares? Mostly, it's me and her, all the way. I created a mini-me!

Peanut's first Ice Cream

God, I love Nirula's. Seriously.

Midnight Feast

When I was a kid growing up on Enid Blyton's Malory Towers and St. Clare's series, there was nothing as enticing as the thought of the Midnight Feast. These were the forbidden feasts where the girls stealthily managed to enjoy spreads of wonderful-sounding food like kipper and scones. I really didn't have a clue what kipper and scones were but they sure sounded good. Discovering what kipper and scones are through the process of growing up has only lessened the charm of the whole thing.

However, I digress.

The point I was making was that the Midnight Feast had a certain meaning then.

And now - the Midnight Feast has a certain meaning.

For Peanut.

This morning, at 4 a.m. to be precise, my baby woke up and sat up in bed next to me. I was only half-awake but noticed in the nick of time that she was trying to escape from the bed through the simple yet ingenious means of hurtling out headfirst, with the carefree abandon that only a baby who has never been allowed to fall out of a bed, can possess. I lunged out at her and caught her by the legs and she giggled loudly, clearly thinking this was a great game to kick-start the day with.

Poor Vijay woke up with a start 'Huh? Kya? Kya?'. I told him to go back to sleep and tried to convince Peanut to do the same. She shouted loudly 'Du-du. Mama, Du-du', and I settled her down again next to me and fed her. Just when I was drifting off and hoping that she was too, she detached herself and sat up again.

I groaned and asked her what she wanted now. Godi? She nodded vigorously, with her whole body, the enthusiasm clearly visible even in the darkness. I got out of bed with her in my arms and started to rock her to sleep, but she wasn't having any of it. She struggled out of my arms, in her curiously effective wriggly-worm fashion and as soon as she landed on the floor, was out the door. I followed her groggily as she headed straight into the kitchen and went for the fridge.

'Du-du, du-du' she stated loudly. Vijay, who had followed us into the kitchen, immediately decided to jump into action and warm the milk in the fridge. I told him that she didn't really want it because she had just been fed, but he was adamant and started to rattle pans around indiscriminately.

I suspected that she might need to eat something else because she hadn't had much at dinnertime. I asked her if she wanted to eat something, and she grabbed the nearest available slice of cheese out of the fridge. I then remembered that I had bought some fruit buns for her to try, and figured that this was as good a time as any, and so took that out to warm for her. Vijay, unable to resist a shot, asked her if she wanted to eat 'Makkhan-Toast' and she looked up at him and nodded her assent vigorously again. He then proceeded to rattle a few more things around, digging out the Toaster, plugging it in and so on.

She had two bites of the cheese, one bite of the fruit bun which was then spat out unceremoniously into my hand, and then cheerfully refused both the milk and the makkhan-toast offered by Vijay, much to his annoyance.

And so it went. Vijay and I stood around bleary eyed while she giggled and darted here, there and everywhere. We looked at the clock and then at each other. It was 5 a.m. and Peanut showed no signs of falling asleep.

Eventually, she did fall asleep but woke up every half hour to demand her 'Du-du' loudly, falling back asleep within a couple of minutes, each time. Vijay and I woke up each time but it took us a lot longer to get back to sleep. As a consequence of which, we didn't actually sleep at all, but still dragged ourselves out of bed only at 8 a.m. and got late going to work.

I felt like I was going to collapse in the first half of the day, but a couple of cups of coffee and some paracetamol produced by my very kind-hearted young team members resulted in my bravely lasting through the rest of the day and actually managing to do a few productive things.

And now, at 10.30 p.m., again Peanut has just fallen asleep and I am about to go to bed. Sending up a silent prayer that she will not assume that 4 a.m. is now her official wake-up-and-play time.

In other words - Midnight feasts and all other night-time adventures appear highly overrated when you get to be an adult. Oh, to be ten again. Chalo, I can live that age vicariously through Peanut.

Should be fun.

Yawn.

G'night, all.

Peanut @ 15 months

Peanut actually gets funner (!) every month. I guess it's because this baby thing is new to me, I find it endlessly fascinating. Well, let's not say endlessly because I was pretty darn ready to go back to work after 10 months at home with her! But still - the point is that each new development is just so wondrous to me that I have a sneaking suspicion this fascination is perhaps swayed to the extreme by the fact that this particular child is mine, and that not everyone shares the same level of enthusiasm about a baby's monthly progress. However - this is my own space to be a completely starry-eyed and barmy parent, and therefore, onwards with a 15 month update.

- She is practically running around now, and let's be frank here - she's not very good at it. Yet, you have to give her points for trying. She has finally got slightly better with walking in shoes, too, and therefore I can now take her out to the park for a walk.

- Taking her to the park for a 'walk' is a bit theoretical though, because she's the sort who would rather watch the other kids from a safe distance - which means her clinging on to me for dear life. In general, she is at an embarrassingly anti-social age and I spend quite a bit of time answering well-meaning park people in a baby voice, on her behalf. You know, like

Well meaning Park Aunty - 'Oooh, Baby...how are YOU today?'
Peanut - (Looking the other way, the complete cold shoulder)
Me ( Stepping in to save the day, in a baby voice) Ooooh! I'm fine, Aunty. How are you?

It really is kind of stupid. Oh, well.

- She still continues with her fascination for older children, particularly girls, whom she calls 'Didi' quite indiscriminately, whether they are a few months or a few years older than her. In fact, come to think of it, she's not really giving the boys any attention at all, just seems to like the didis - who in turn, are very interested, gentle and sweet with her, in general. Unfortunately, though, our nice next-door neighbours have moved to Mumbai, taking their 20 month-old daughter, Sai with them ( which is understandable because it wouldn't really have made sense to leave her behind), and therefore, there is a gap in our lives which we are somehow trying to fill. I really hope we don't get nasty neighbours.

- Peanut also says quite a few things now, apart from the 'Mama', which is also used to refer to my mother and my sister. There's also 'Da-da' for Vijay, 'Pa-pa' for my grandfather, 'Bua' for my bua, 'Na-na' for my Foofaji ( wow, I have never used that word in real life and it looks funny, is it phoofaji? phoophaji? never mind). In case you've noticed, she is going to possibly grow up a little confused about these relationships with this kind of nomenclature logic, but never mind.

Oh, and Vinod, our driver, is called 'Meow' because that's something he says often to amuse her.

- Speaking of amusement, Peanut invents her own little ways to keep herself entertained. This includes stuff like climbing up and down steps a zillion times, with the K in close attendance. She also derives great pleasure from the strangest things, and it is an endless journey of discovery for us, to find those little things that are going to amuse her. For example, today, it was Vijay's knocking over the shade of a lamp that sent her into hysterics. She laughed so hard each time that we looked at each other, helplessly amused, thinking 'What's the big deal about this? It's just a lamp shade being knocked over', but it worked for her so we did it a thousand times. Of course, when we tried to turn the camera on her and then do it, she gave us a bored, quizzical look that said 'What's the big deal about this? Can't you guys come up with something better?'

- She still isn't a great eater, but certainly seems to have enough energy and to be making enough poopy to suggest that she is doing just fine, so I'm thinking I will really just be quitting worrying about it. I'm a great believer in not trying to force her to eat at any point of time but a lot of ominous prophecies from the family sometimes drive me to try a little harder than I should to get a spoonful into her - although it's quite a half-hearted effort and therefore predictably fails.

I know this has nothing to do with this post, but I have found myself doing a similar half-hearted effort thing when it comes to killing mosquitos. I do want to get rid of the damn pesky mosky but I can't quite bring myself to actually kill it most of the time. So when I do slap my hands together to kill it, I am just pretending to be aiming for it because I really actually just want to send it a message and tell it to go away and not bother me anymore - and therefore, I end up just missing it deliberately and then telling Vijay 'Damn! I missed - can you please kill it, honey?'

I had a lot more to write but Peanut is calling for me and it's time to go. I feel rather sorry to have to end this on a random mosquito note, but such is life.

Until next time.