Logic and Two Five Year Olds

Logic.

The science of inference and deduction.

I am beginning to believe that no one understands this science better than a five year old. 

The promptness and speed with which penetrating insights are arrived at; the alacrity with which judgements are delivered; has been leaving me feeling confounded and grasping for a suitable repartee in almost every skirmish I have with my two five year olds. 

There was a time I used to rate myself pretty okay on the nimble witted scale. 

Not anymore. I don't. 

So, in honour of Year 5, here are few moments that left me off-balance. 

The 5 year old's Guide to the Galaxy

M.O.M had made a successful trip to Mars. And at a fraction of the cost NASA spent on it's missions.

Given that the boys key associations with the motherland is with dirt (dis-gust-ing), people spitting on the roads (awesome), incessant honking (super fun), cows and goats on the roads (actually that is pretty cool too), beggars (distressing) and not very "comfo-ble" stays; I was using this landmark achievement to make them aware that India is much more than all they associate it with.

V1, has his own theory of relativity, wherein the speed of every moving object is relative to that of his favourite animal, the cheetah,

V1 to me:  "Mamma, who is faster? A rocket or cheetah?"

I proceeded to spend the next few minutes patiently explaining the concept of gravity and escape velocity, with a simplicity and conciseness that would have made Jr Gandhi proud.

And that is when V1 interrupted me mid sentence.

"No! I know why the rocket is faster than the cheetah" he said.

"It's because the rocket's butt is on fire. If you put a cheetah's butt on fire, he will go fast like a rocket too". 

I guess there is a reason, we named this one The Wise One. 

The Conservation Dilemma. 

We have been discussing the concept of conservation for a while now. 

I wanted the boys to realise that there are people who walk miles each day for a bucket of water so they respect the resources they have access to. We had also been discussing deforestation and how it is making animals becoming homeless, causing climate change and pushing us slowly towards the brink of extinction

The other day at the dining table, V1 moved off his chair, mid meal to off to pick up a tissue he definitely didn't need.

Me: Why are you wasting tissues? You are just five minutes away from finishing. You could have washed your hands after you were done. 

V1: But I am using the tissue because you told me not to waste water. 

Me, still annoyed: Every tissue you use was made killing a plant somewhere. 

V1: Do you want me to save water or do you want me to save the plant? You need to choose because I can do only one when I am cleaning my hands. 

Wooing 2 women with one love note..

The Remote Effect

V2: What gift do you want for your birthday Mammy?

Me: I want you to listen to your mamma, to be an obedient child. That can be my gift. 

V2: Oh! So actually you want a remote controller to control me.

Someone figured out that getting Santa's job
would be the best way to collect maximum gifts.

Mothers who live in glass houses ...

It was early morning on a Sunday. I had stayed up late watching some mindless movies and wanted to sleep in and wanted to wake up in my own sweet time.

However, when it comes to sleep, the "mother proposes, child disposes" rule has always been consistent in our household.

So true enough. Was woken up rudely to the sound of my two boys jumping from the bed to the floor in their room, while letting out blood curdling yells, apparently inspired by the Tarzan movie they saw the previous night.

Me: Can you stop this yelling and talking loudly early morning, please!

V2: Why?

Me: Because I cannot handle all these loud yelling and screaming noises. They hurt my ears and give me a headache.

V2: But if you don't like noise, then why do you scream at us all the time?

Its always nice to know what you are doing right...

Hair raising comeback

V1: "Mamma why is your hair getting white?"

Me : Well, each time you are naughty, each time you make me angry or sad or exasperated, one hair on my head turns white"

I pat myself on the back for such inspired, scintillating logic.

It seemed to have worked. 

V1 looked suitably chastised, gave me a tight hug and piped up:  "I will never be naughty. If I be good, Mammy will not be old and die"

It seemed too good to be true. And so of course it didn't last very long.

Because V2 had a question: "Hey Maa, why is Paati's (grandma) hair all white? Does that mean Daddy is naughty and making her angry all the time?"

Ummm... errrr...... hmmmm...... 

There was only one way to answer this. So I said "Stop yakking at bedtime and go to bed NOW" 

Surgery at 5: A milestone I shall never forget!

17th August 2014

School opened 5 days ago. 

Just as I was thanking my stars that we had a relatively uneventful summer vacation this year; with only some bleeding from a torn toenail, a couple of small cuts on one leg resulting from dashing into a cyclist passing by and a cut on the head from trying to perform stunts while scootering; all that thankfulness came crashing down with one dramatic, panic stricken and blood spilled dash to the ER in an ambulance, admissions into KKH, a minor surgery under anaesthesia followed by 24hours in the hospital under observation. 

V1 slipped and fell after trying to climb the top of a tunnel connecting two slides in our condominium playground. The fall from a height and the impact cut his tongue so deeply, he was sent from the ER to the operation theatre and needed to be put under general anaesthesia and had a surgeon put 11 stitches in his tongue to stitch the gashes. 

Still, the horror of the experience notwithstanding, I have to admit the guy was a trooper - he was less freaked out than his parents; never lost his patience even though he had to wait for 5 hours before he could go into surgery and was given painkillers that blocked out his pain; sat quietly on his bed, spitting out blood and saliva into a bag; nodded sanely when the doctor explained the IV needle to him and then barely whimpered when it was put in; and back in his room, even tried to use his raised hospital bed as a slide to pass time.

He is also most definitely the only 5 year old I know who called the nurse and asked her to put the IV needle back in after it was removed, so he could impress his brother who was visiting him in the hospital! 

So the surgeons at KKH sent him back home with a bravery certificate (which has made brother V2 extremely angry and envious). 

I would have probably given him a certificate of bravery myself had I not been caught up in the emotional turmoil, the helplessness and horror of watching an IV drip go into my tiny 5yr old and having to carry him and lay him on the operating table and holding his hand till the anaesthesia started working! 

Right now he is back home, on a liquid diet, unable to talk or swallow and is still up to no good. 

While a part of me is waiting to yell at him when he is better, I am really thankful, because his injury could have been worse had it not been a soft playground floor. I am hoping this trip to the hospital will teach him a thing or two about being a little less reckless and a little more careful! 

However, judging by his attempts to jump out of his hospital bed a few hours after his surgery, I am not sure if that lesson has sinked in or ever will. 

The bravery certificate that V1 is immensely proud of and V2 is very unhappy about :)

Update : 2 weeks later

V1 is recovering well (notwithstanding another scare last week when he fell down in school and cut his lip and had to be rushed for another checkup to see if the fall had affected his stitches) and his stitches have more or less disappeared. He can talk and eat his favourite fruits again.

Any hope I had of the fall getting some some sense into V1's head, has long disappeared after I found it has been having exactly the opposite effect and has increase his Coolness Quotient among the other kids in our condominium and in his class. Each day V1 came back from school, he told me how other kids (even girls who always ignored him) wanted to see his stitches. The same goes for all the kids of our neighbours who have been dropping in to visit him - the ride in the ambulance is one of the hottest topics of discussion and V1 has become the resident expert, being the only one to have seen the inside of one! Trust a 5year old to find the silver lining in every cloud there is!

Love in the time of Kindergarten

With abject apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson, for massacring a classic, I have reached the conclusion that the time when one waited for the Spring of youth to fall in love, is long over. Instead, young men and their "fancy lightly turn into thoughts of love" by the time they reach the ripe age of 4years. 

And so it has been in our household, with our V1 and V2 being very caught up these days with issues that are very pertinent to a 4yr old's existence; such as love and marriage. Every other day, there is some discussion or the other about who to marry, who not to marry, what will lead to marriage, what one looks for when choosing a partner and so on… 

So, in keeping with spirit of Christmas love and to celebrate the winding down of this memorable 2013,  here are a few snippets of our current romances, dalliances and heartbreaks.

Let me show you my moves baby

A few weeks back, the boys and I were at the swimming pool in our condominium. I was busy reading a book by the pool side while the boys were splashing around. At that moment, there arrived, a little water nymph who was all of 8 years old. As she proceeded to jump through an inflatable tire with a proficiency that would put a trained sea lion to shame, the boys stopped all splashing to watch her spell bound. 

V2 our Casanova, not content with being mere audience, decided he needed to make her acquaintance. So each time she jumped, he would clap and shout, "You are so beautiful. Do it again". It must have pleased the girl, for she went on to acknowledge his presence with the faintest hint of a nod and smile. 

So it went on; V2 playing the love struck fan by furiously clapping and showering compliments and the water nymph raising her game with more daring dives to further impress her admirer. 

All this while, V1 had been watching her silently. He must have decided it was time to make his presence felt, for, after an entire half hour spent watching her, he finally spoke.
"Hey, I can see your bum", he said.

Result : Pin drop silence for a moment, followed by a glare that could kill from kilometres away; and then the water nymph stomped off in a huff.

Why do I begin with this incident?
Because this moment; in a nutshell, sums up the difference in their style, their attitude and their modus operandi.
V1 is typical guy - uncomplicated, forthright and is yet to grasp the enormous power of flattery.
V2 on the other hand, is a smooth operator, who instinctively knows what is the right thing to say, how to charm and is harbouring ambitions of creating his own personal harem.

It's not what you said!

V1 comes home from school looking crestfallen one day. "Mammy, one girl pinched me in the bus and it hurt me so much"

The Bong mother was understandably worked up. "Why did she pinch you? Did you complain to your bus aunty?"

V1: "No, she pinched me because I annoyed her"

Me sighing: "What did you do to annoy her"

V1: "Me call her a big, red watermelon and she got angry"

I sigh louder and bend down to explain patiently to my innocent child, how the world works ,
"People get mad if you call them a watermelon. It's not a compliment. Why would you call her a watermelon?" 

V1: "But I love watermelons Mammy. I call her watermelon because I like her. But her get annoyed and her pinched me. I told you girls are annoying and silly"

Marry for love or money? Or a few pieces of silver? 

One day V2 comes up to me and says, "I want to marry Aunty C"

Me: "Eh? Why? I didn't know you liked her so much"

Aunty C is one of my closest friends.
V1 and V2 adore her 12yr old daughter and her husband but have never been overtly enamoured by her. Hence I was confused as to these new developments. 

V2 explains patiently, "Mammy when I ask you for your necklace, you said you give me your jewellery only if I marry a girl you like. So I thought and I thought and I had a very good idea. I marry Aunty C because you like her. And then I can have all your jewellery."

All it takes is just one kiss!

Christmas carol singing in school.
While all the children including V2, dressed cutely in Santa hats, are singing along, V1 sits there, with his hat pulled over his eyes, pretending he doesn't exist and looking like he wishes to be light years away from the whole spectacle. 

During the singing, there are parts where you have to hug and kiss the person next to you.
Next to V1 is a cute little Japanese girl in red. She looks crestfallen, because each time she tries to hug V1, he glares at her and utters a loud No.

After the singing was over, I decide to have a chat with V1.
"How was the singing" I ask. "Did you not enjoy yourself?"
V1 is a man of few words, like his dad.
"No" he says.
"Okay. But why didn't you let the girl hug and kiss you? She looked so sad because you were pushing her away" I said, trying to appeal to his better nature.
"I didn't want her to kiss me" V1 replied.
"Why?"
"Because if she kissed me, she would have wanted to marry me"

The No.1 thing to look for in your life partner? 

We are talking about the movie Frozen which we saw that weekend.
What we are discussing is the fight between the 2 sisters Elsa and Anna on the topic of Anna's marriage.

V1: "Why her sister say she can't marry?"
Me: "Because the guy was a stranger and her sister said she couldn't marry a stranger."

At this point V2, who is perpetually showing off his superior knowledge, pipes in.
"You cannot marry a stranger.

You need to know them for 76 minutes.

If you can remember their name after 76 minutes, you can marry them.
If you cannot remember their name, you cannot marry them"

Now THAT, is some really sensible advice indeed!!! I just wish he remembers it when he is 21!  

Second time's the charm...

V1 may have the knack of showering people with the worst compliments, but apparently he is getting better at it. This is a story I heard from his class teacher at the PTA meeting.

V1 to Ms K, "Ms K, I love your skin"
Ms K is from New Zealand and is heavily freckled. According to her, she has received many compliments in her life but none for how her skin looks.
So she asked V1 why he loved her skin.
V1: "Because you have so many spots Ms K, you look like a cheetah."
Cheetah being V1's favourite animal, Ms K, needless to say was touched with that genuine, heartfelt compliment.

Brothers before Others!

Inspite of all the talk of not wanting to be married (V1) or wanting to have 11 wives (V2 as of last count), there is one love that trumps all others as of now..
No, not the love for Mammy but for the brother, best friend, partner in crime.

Thus,
Love is…..

Appointing yourself brother's legal counsel and negotiating on his behalf, each time he is pulled up by Mammy.

Waking up in the middle of the night, and dragging brother while simultaneously carrying his water bottle, his pillow and toy to Daddy Mammy's room, so he doesn't get left behind alone.

Coming home proudly displaying the certificate the teacher handed you. Then you look at your brother who is crying inconsolably because he didn't receive one. And then without even batting an eyelid, you tear your precious certificate in half and hand over one half to your crying brother and say "Here, take your share".

And love is…. jumping into the deeper end of the pool without a thought, even when you can barely swim on your own, even though your dad is already there, because "my brother was sinked and I needed to rescue him"

On that note, here's to a 2014 filled with loads of love and happiness! 

Finding the Perfect Pet!

"Can I have my own little puppy please? Please Daddy? Please Mammy?"

Yes, these days we are going through the "I want a pet" phase; a phase I am sure, almost every parent  is familiar with and comes face to face with, at least once in his/ her lifetime. 

Now how do you react to your child's demand for a pet? 

A part of you wants to give in; as a parent you obviously appreciate the advantages of having your child(ren) grow up with the love and responsibility of having a pet. And if you, like me, have secretly hankered for a dog all these years, and have done online tests to see what breed suits your lifestyle the best and have even checked out dog shelters online, you tell yourself, this is the best time to go ahead and get a dog that will bring loads of love and joy and meaning into your life! 

And at the same time, if you, like us, are a household that hasn't ever managed the responsibility of looking after even a fish, let alone a pup; then simultaneously, you battle obvious qualms about not wanting to rock the boat of your already chaotic life. After all, you know fully well that no matter what your kids promise, eventually you will be the one who will end up with all the responsibilities for the new pet. And so you ask yourself a thousand and one times if you are ready to add to your current set of responsibilities. Don't you already have enough on your plate as it is?

You are still waking up at nights because your boys have nightmares about monster mosquitoes or want to visit the loo. You ask yourself if you really want to go through the whole cycle of having to wake up early to take the puppy out or waking up yet again in the night to comfort the new member of your family? 

Add to that a question that Vj (who has always resisted my countless pleadings and demands for a dog) keeps asking me, knowing fully well that the obsessive compulsive monster in me cannot ever answer this without hemming and hawing; "Am I ready to have a less than immaculate home; with drool and dog hair on my sofas? Am I willing to make peace with the possibility of having my carpets chewed up and scratch marks on my furniture?"

Honestly, I don't know. Yes, I am obsessive about how I keep my home and am finicky about having everything look just right. But at the same time, it is also true that I am far less obsessive than I was 4 years back; today I don't have a heart attack if I see chocolate stains on my sofa or vomit on my carpet. But how far would I willing to step out of my obsessive compulsive comfort zone, is a question I have no ready answer to. 

But no matter how difficult or tumultuous is the battle that rages on within you; there is a far bigger battle that is simultaneously happening in the battlefield of your home; the one where you and your child(ren) butt heads; where tears are shed to make you feel miserable and where your negotiation skills get pushed to their limits.

So ours went on along these lines...
We started off with the demands for a puppy; and then as we went along, we evaluated quite a few possibilities, some feasible, some absolutely ludicrous, as ideas and options of other pets kept popping into V1 and V2's head. So here is a recap of the negotiations that had been going on for over a month in our home - 

"I want a puppy Daddy"

"No"

"Why not? Don't you think puppies are cute Daddy?"

"Yes they are cute. But no, we aren't getting a puppy"

"Why Daddy? Are you scared of puppies Daddy?"

"No I am not scared." (Liar Vj!)

"Can we have a puppy then?

"No, you need to be old enough to look after a puppy."

"But we are 4 already"

"Can you clean the puppy's poo poo on your own?"

"No poo poo is so stinky"

"Well then you can't have a puppy till you are old enough to clean its poo poo"

"Okay then Daddy".
Conversation ends with a long, sad sigh which is completely ignored by the parent. 

Crisis averted. Or so we thought. 

A mere two days later,

"I want a baby kitten Mammy."

"Well you aren't getting a kitten"

"Why not Mammy?"

"I don't like cats, that's why! I don't want to have a cat in my house. End of story. "

"Hmphh, I won't be your best friend any more Mammy"

"That's really tragic boys, but I think I can live with that! But what I can most definitely NOT live with, is a cat."

A day later,
"I want a dolphin as a pet Mammy"

"You MOST DEFINITELY CANNOT have a dolphin"

"WHY NOT? You say No all the time"

"Well for one I don't know how to get one. Two we will be breaking a few laws and most likely going to jail if we keep one. And finally we will have to flood our home and live underwater like divers if we want one"

"Oh really? Living underwater all the time is not cool". 

And then, some hours later,
"Can I have an elephant as a pet?"
"NO. A big ginormous NO"
"WHY"
"Because we cannot keep an elephant inside our house. It is too big. And it will eat up all our food"
"Will it eat up my fruits?"
Now fruits are like manna from Heaven to V1 who prefers them over cakes, icecreams and pizzas.
Needless to say, sharing fruits with a pet is not what he is willing to sign up for.
"Ofcourse! Elephants love fruits. The elephant will eat up all your watermelon and your strawberries and apples and grapes."
I realise his qualms and ruthlessly move in to hammer in my advantage.
"Oh man. That will not be cool!"; V1 decides and with that ends another chapter in our negotiations.

"What about a horse then?" V2 pipes in.
He has been wanting to ride horses ever since he would visit the City Farm near our home as a toddler and watch his blonde haired, blue eyed, play school teacher ride horses there while he stood by the fence screaming, "I love you Daniella", in a manner that would make Casanova proud.
"We cannot have a horse here V2" I explain. "We don't have enough place to keep a horse"
"Let's go back to London Mammy. We can keep a horse in London"
I don't have the heart to explain that we cannot keep a horse even if we go back to London.
In the spirit of crossing the bridge when we come to it, I nod my head and say,
"We just moved here. We cannot go back to London now but when we do, we can look at getting a horse, okay?"
"Okay Mammy" nods V2 and with that ends another chapter in our negotiations.

Phew!
I am beginning to get good at this, I tell myself; and remind myself to give myself a pat on the back when the boys aren't looking.

A day later,

"I want a baby as a pet"  

"WHAT??" My eyes almost pop out of my head. Am I hearing right?

"I want a baby as a pet. A real baby"! V2 speaks slower this time so I can comprehend clearly.
I sit down and wait for it to sink in. 

But apparently it's not just any baby that he wants. V2 specifically points to a really cute, roly poly, gurgling baby in the Sound Touch App on my iPad and asks me to get him that particular baby as his new pet!

I wonder how to tackle this situation. 

Should I explain to him that a baby is technically not a pet, not by any stretch of the imagination or legal possibilities or should I just deal with it the old fashioned way and teach him how much work a baby involves.
I decided to settle for the latter.

"Well if you want a baby, you should be willing to look after it. You will have to feed it, bathe it, put nappies on it, and carry it around all the time. And if it wakes up in the night, you have to carry it around and pat it to sleep. You cannot slink into my room at night because you have to stay with your baby. And you cannot get angry when I wake you to go to the loo because baby will wake you many times"
"Will the baby potty a lot? And pee pee?" V2 asks.
"Yes babies potty and pee pee in their nappy. You need to clean them all the time. And you need to feed them and bathe them and pat them to sleep". I explain, remembering the two years I lived as a zombie.

"Oh man! That is a lot of hard work" V2 exclaims. 

"More than you'll ever know kiddo, more than you'll ever know" I am dying to add but I decide to hold my tongue.

Now, as time passes by,  the negotiations start taking on a more frantic tone.

"What about a turtle then Mammy?"

"No, a turtle's shell can store a lot of germs and you can get sick."

"Then what about a hamster?"

"No, a hamster can make you sick too. But you know what? We can consider a guinea pig."

At this point V1 has a change of heart and decides he has an issue with the responsibility of cleaning poo.
So wants to clarify before signing up, "But will the guinea pig do poo poo?"

"Of course a guinea pig does poo poo"

V1 speaks, "I don't want to clean poo poo. I want a pet who will not do poo poo".
I do a silent Hallelujah!
"Great, we will get a fish then". I say. " You don't have to clean poo poo if it is a fish"

So we settle for the one option acceptable to all parties - a betta fish.
We look at pictures together on the Internet and decide on a nice blue betta fish; to be brought home once we are back from our holidays.

Except, we come back home from a weekend trip to find our neighbour has brought home the most adorable little Golden Retriver puppy!
And so we are back to renegotiating that perfect pet all over again!

The Fall, the Haze and all the drama of Summer...

Yesterday marked the end of one month of our very first summer vacation. 

And we heralded it with a panic stricken, drama filled visit to the A&E at KK Hospital! 

Before the 8 week long summer vacations began, everyone including my husband asked me to get the boys enrolled into summer school. 

And I steadfastly refused. 

To a novice like me, who had never experienced a single summer vacation as a parent, and who till December, sent her kids to a full day play school for almost 350 days of the year; the concept of packing the kids off to school during summer holidays seemed so very unfair. Ofcourse it gave them an edge over other kids and kept them occupied with a thousand and one things to do and most importantly, kept them out of your hair but somehow it seemed so cold blooded and practical compared to the aimless, magical summer holidays we had growing up. 

Those days when we romped around in the garden with nothing to do, made up our own games, read books and played with friends. Where the one trip you looked forward to was the visit to the grandparents; when your doting Dadu (grandpa) pampered you with hot samosas and jalebis every day and where Didu (grandma) cooked all your favourite food and told you stories from the Ramayan and the Mahabharat while you sat with her under the stars, on the charpoy in the courtyard each night; and where you returned the favour by driving her around the bend by polishing off her year's stock of pickles while she enjoyed her afternoon siesta. 

To me that was what summer stood for; a time that was all about unplanned, purposeless drifting; roaming around with friends, watching flowers, catching dragon flies, making chilli lemonade and maxing out your library borrowing limit.
And I wanted my sons to experience that aimlessness. 

And then the summer vacations started.

The first day of the vacations, V1 fell off a tree, cut his lips and teeth and almost made it to A&E.

The fourth day, he picked up a fishing tackle someone thoughtlessly left lying by the riverside and cut his hand with the sharp metal hooks. I had to rush him to the dr to check if he needed tetanus shots.
All this in the very first week.
When the doctor visits were not happening, there was the waking up each morning, racking my brains as to how to keep them occupied. And then there were countless fights to be broken up, disputes to be settled and many moments where I had to be around to be given a lecture by two opinionated boys on "Let me show you what I don't like".

After only 7 seemingly endless days, the concept of letting the kids indulge in aimless wandering around during summer vacations had become one of those ideas that seem great as a concept but are pathetic when executed in real life. By Day 7, I was already firmly in a "What were you thinking?" zone where the urge to kick myself kept getting stronger with each passing hour I spent with the boys. 

Then the haze happened.
The toxic smoke from the forest fires in Indonesia blew into Singapore and increased our pollutants standard index (PSI) to an all time record high of over 400 (to put things in perspective over 100 is unhealthy and anything over 300 is considered hazardous), grounding kids  indoors for almost a week. After the first day, my resolution to limit TV watching time, went out of the window and instead I began to see TV as my saviour delivering me from insanity! And with each passing day of being stuck indoors, my debt of gratitude to the makers of Chota Bheem and to my friends who brought the DVDs from India for V1 and V2, kept getting bigger and bigger.

But just as my spirits were reaching hazardous levels, the haze lifted and things came back to normal. 

The swimming pool became my best friend after I discovered leaving the boys in the kids pool for a few hours each day was the best way to get them tired and get to bed before bed time. When we were not in the pool, we went for long walks (and by long I mean 5-6kms long) walk by the riverside or we went to the library and read. We were settling into a routine and summer vacations didn't seem so bad after all. 

All tired and crashed out after a few hours in the swimming pool!
Peace reigns at last!

Just then the fall happened.
A perfectly planned Sunday came crashing down in a moment when V2's head hit the parquet floor. And the woman who was proud of never shedding tears, lost all control and bawled like a baby.

Well what happened was as follows -
The husband and the Mother had left in the morning for India.
The help was on her day off.
The boys and I had planned a trip to the library and then a lunch at our favourite restaurant, an afternoon siesta and an evening in the pool.
It was supposed to be a perfect day.

I got the boys ready and then switched on the TV to keep them quiet and ran to take a quick shower.
I must have been away less than 3 minutes when I heard loud crying. I ran out to discover V1 crying and screaming  "He hit me first" and V2 with his face all red, holding his head.

He had a giant bump protruding from the back of his head and when I touched the bump, my heart literally stopped. The bump felt soft and squishy. All I could think of was a broken skull and brain matter flowing out. I know it sounds dramatic and preposterous and everyone who heard it, from the ER doctor to my hubby, laughed when I said it, but at that point, my brain had stopped being rational. I was alone, with 2 crying kids, one of whom was possibly grievously injured; with twenty and one possibilities, each worse than the other running through my head. So thinking straight not on the top of the list I was doing.

I managed to hail a cab and rush to the ER, and then request the nurses to get someone to see V2 immediately. The wait in the ER that followed, seemed like the longest nightmare of my life. To be fair to the hospital authorities, they rushed us through every procedure. Yet, till we met the doctor for the last time with the X-ray reports, and until she gave us an all clear with a warning to watch V2 for the next 48hours, I was unable to breathe. Even after that, after we came back home, all I felt other than a bare semblance of relief, was nothing. I was just too exhausted to react or feel anything the entire evening.

I have run through what happened so many times in my head by now, looking at how I could have avoided the incident and all the lessons I learnt from it - like never to go for a shower leaving two boys alone with a remote or the number of the ambulance service in Singapore, the biggest discovery for me was the generosity of strangers and friends alike.

The biggest debt of gratitude I owe my friend C, who I called in a panic. She heard me screaming on the phone and said, "Wait, I am coming." Her husband and daughter took a tearful and terrified V1 off my hands so I could focus only on V2. And she was there, with me at the hospital, like a rock, every step of the way; assuring me everything was going to be okay. They had guests at home and Sunday plans, all of which got nixed by our misadventure. I have known C for almost 20yrs now, and we have seen each other through many good and bad times, but yesterday, more than ever, I was thankful to have her as my friend.

Then there was the lady we met occasionally by the river walking her dogs. When she saw me trying to hail a cab, she offered to drive me to the hospital. And my neighbour's help, who unmindful of her day off, stood with me on the road, hailing cabs and who offered to look after V1 while I was in the hospital.

And Vj who never once (I would have not been as generous if I were in his place) gave me a "I told you to ask the maid not to take leave today" speech and instead kept telling me it could have happened to anyone and to stop piling the blame on myself. And my two sisters, who kept calling and reminding me how tough V2 was and how everything was going to be all right.

The biggest revelations on generosity of spirit, however, have been my two boys -

First, poor V1 who was so traumatised by guilt, he kept asking C's daughter "if my brother is all right". And since then he has been (with some lapses here and there) on his best behaviour; he has endured taunts and smacks from his brother without even flinching, has been sharing his toys voluntarily and has even done the unthinkable - share his fruits which he never does!

Then there is the hero of the hour, V2, who surprised me the most of all. When we were in the cab enroute to the hospital, I started crying while talking to my sister. V2, who was on my lap and who has never seen me in tears, turned to me and said, "Why are you crying Mammy? Look, I am not dead yet. See? I can move my hands".
Unlike me, he also had enough sense to ask the ER doctor for a candy, and then an extra candy for his brother.
Finally when we came back home and plonked our exhausted selves on the sofa,  a very apologetic V1 turned to V2 and said, "I am sorry I hurt you V2", to which he magnanimously replied, "That's alright V1. I am okay now".
Never before had forgiveness seemed so graceful and innocent at the same time.

Signing off, I am not sure if we are on our way to achieving a summer of aimlessness, but we are definitely doing great on drama. Keep tuned; another month and we shall see if we survive this summer vacation, with their limbs and my sanity intact!

Of Sassy kids and Speechless parents

Isn't it interesting how parenting is so fraught with sweet irony? 

For instance, you wait with bated breath for your kids to utter their first words and swoon at every cute lisp they belt out; and then as the words get clearer and their mastery over their vocabulary gets better; you spend the rest of their childhood, part flabbergasted, part horrified and part amused at the answers that come a little too pat for your comfort and the irrevocable logic that makes you feel like a dunce and wonder if you are raising little lawyers cum hostage negotiators? 

Art by V1,
the upside down person in the corner is his rendition of his brother V2 

Thus, here I am, part flabbergasted, part horrified and part amused and always feeling like a dunce who wonders "Why the hell was I not as smart when I was this age?"; coming back with some of my most memorable conversation moments with my twin terrors!

We do it Gangnam Style!

V1: Didu (grandma) What language does Shiva speak? Does he know Hindi?

My Mom: Ofcourse

V1: Does he know Bangla?

My Mom: Yes

V1: What about English?

My Mom: Lord Shiva is a God and so HE knows and speaks all languages.

At this point, V2, an ardent PSY fan, joins in: But does Shiva know "Gumnum" (gangnam) style?

Keep Calm and Drink Water!

V1 to me: Why are you sitting alone?

Me: I am annoyed. That is why

And then with a dollop of sarcasm and bitchiness, I add: Why, what should I be doing? Stomping my feet and screaming like you?

V1 unfazed: You need to drink water Mammy.

Me: Excuse me? What does that have to do with me being annoyed?

V1 explains calmly: You need to drink water. Daddy drinks lots of water. Daddy is never annoyed. You are annoyed all the time. You need to drink lots of water. Then you not be annoyed like Daddy.

Fishy logic!

V2 loses his temper and shoves V1. 

V1 threatens to go complain to Daddy and Mammy.

Before V1 can step out of the room to complain, V2 immediately starts crying and screaming that V1 hit him. 

Unfortunately for him, the misdirection doesn't pay as Vj had seen him shove V1 and tells him to cut out the pretence.
Which V2 promptly does with his usual roguish grin. 

Vj horrified at the reality of being taken for a ride by a 3yr old (I keep warning him about how they manipulate us but he thinks his kids are real innocent babes-in-the-woods and I am just being a mean-mommy), asks: Why did you lie to me and make up that story?

V2, as always unfazed replies without batting an eyelid: Because I eat lots of fish and I am really clever!

It's all relative!

Me: Why did you spit at your brother? 

V1: He was annoying me.

Me: So should you spit at people if they annoy you or tell them they are annoying you? Do I ever spit at you when you annoy me?

V1, grudgingly: No

Me: Why do you think I don't spit at you when I am angry?

V1: Because we don't annoy you so much! You annoy us more Mammy!

The magic touch!

Me: Why is your brother bleeding? Did you scratch him?

V1: No I didn't do anything 

Me: Tell me the truth

V1: I only touched him Mammy.

Me: You just touched him and blood happened to come out? Touch me and show how you managed that?!!

A hesitant V1 does the demo. As expected, I don't end up having any scratch or bleeding. 

Me: Okay so how come there is no scratch or blood when you touched me?

V1: The blood came by magic mummy. I cannot do magic all the time!

Move over Narcissus!

The other day, V2 was walking with a balloon in his hand when a breeze caught it and made it fly off. Just as I was gearing up for some tears, V2 just turned to me and said, "Did you see that? I made the balloon fly. Do you see how clever I am?"

Needless to say, our V2 thinks he is a genius. 

We are not so sure about the genius bit, but we definitely think he is his own one man PR machine!

Here's another gem from our resident Narcissus. 

V2: Mammy, am I pretty?

Me: Yes you are

V2: And am I handsome?

Me: Yes you are. You are very, very handsome. 

Then not sure what angst caused this, I ask: Why did you ask? Do you not think you are pretty?

V2: No Mammy, I am very pretty but I like to hear you saying it.

Imitation; the best form of flattery??? 

V1: Once upon a time there was an elephant. EAT, EAT, EAT!

V2: The elephant went to the forest. EAT, EAT, EAT!

V1: You annoying me too much. EAT! Hee hee hee.

V2: The elephant met a monkey. EAT, EAT, EAT!

V1: No TV for you anymore because you have stopped eating. Hee hee hee

Me perplexed: What are you both doing?

V1 and V2 in unison: We pretending to be you. We talking like you Mammy!

A mixed bag of feelings

The 1st of May 2013 is going to be a landmark day.

Tomorrow, I shall be leaving on a short trip and for the first time, spending a few days and more importantly, a few nights away from V1 and V2.

For a long, long time, I have been cribbing and complaining and telling anyone who would listen, how desperately I need a holiday on my own, without the kids. A few days of peace, sitting by the sea, reading a few books, getting long massages and sipping wine; without worrying about things like which kid of mine is jumping off into the deep end of the pool the minute I get back to my book, or how to keep the boys entertained during the 2hr flight so they do not end up kicking someone else's seat or making endless trips to the breakfast buffet table to ensure they eat something filling and healthy and then nagging them to finish, thereby ending up having no time to fill my own plate. 

This trip is unfortunately not a holiday, but still it comes pretty close to making my wish come true. 

4 days and 3 nights minus the boys. 

Minus them poking me awake each morning.

Minus them banging on my toilet door every 30 seconds and demanding I come out.

Minus the non stop fights I need to break up or the demand for candy or the TV that I have to nix constantly without hurting any feelings.

Minus the endless running around like Labrador puppies on caffeine, the screaming, the shouting, the whining and the inevitable fuss at the dinner table.

Minus all the threats I have to hand out and all the bribes I have to offer.

And suddenly instead of giving in to the joy and enormity of this moment, I am a jumble of nerves. 

A friend S, once told me that when she travelled for the first time on work, leaving her little son behind, she cried all through the flight. That day I had laughed and made fun of her for being such a softie. Now, while I still won't be shedding any tears, I do feel caught up in this jumble of emotions that make me feel a whole lot of compassion and empathy for those tears she shed that day. Never before in a decade long work life filled with regular travel, had I experienced anything that comes close to the mixed emotions I am faced with now.

A part of me is looking forward to meeting old friends, finishing chores that need done and doing some shopping on my own, in my time and at my pace, without any interruptions and chaos.

A part of me is also wishing fervently that this experience makes Vj realise just how much work I put in to make it all seem so effortless. Here, the irony of Labour day being the day when I start my day off, is also not lost on me! :)

At the same time, I am filled with apprehensions of how the brats will cope without me. 

What will they eat? (I am cooking for all the 4 days and stocking the food in boxes with immaculate labels just in case there is some confusion, but hey, does that stop me from being the tragedy queen?)

Will they listen to Vj and the Nanny and make it to school in time? (Not sure at all about this one at all but I am told they are far less prone to drama when I am not around so we shall see)

What will happen if they hurt themselves or fall sick or wake up in the night looking for me? (Usually it is Vj who wakes up to every tiny whimper or loud bawl in the night, while I sleep through it all, but as I said, where is the fun in rational thinking?)

A teeny tiny part of me  is plagued by the thought that Vj, with his steady stream of ice-cream and cup-cakes and candies flowing and "let-them-watch-tv-whenever-they-want" attitude might actually fare better than I think hope he will. And then he will never let me hear the end of it. And he will be firmly entrenched as the fun parent while I get to hear the same old refrain of "But Daddy lets us do this". 

But most importantly, there is a part of me that is just loathe to admit that they might after all, manage just fine without me. And as much as I want that to happen, as much as I am planning and working towards making sure they manage absolutely fine without me; I have to honestly admit that there is a part of me that doesn't want to let go; that wants to believe and to cling on to the hope that there will be total chaos in my little universe without  me. After all, there is nothing more tormenting than finding out you are not as indispensable as you have made yourself out to be. 

And now, after all that spontaneous overflow of powerful emotions, here comes the reality check.

I asked the boys a few times if they will miss me while I am away. 

V2, as prone to drama as I am, has been making full use of each such moment to get away with murder. He looks at me like a lost puppy and asks "When are you going?". 

When I answer, he gives me a tight hug and a kiss and asks, "I miss you lots Mammy. Now can I have some candy/ Now can I sleep in your bed/ Now can I watch some more TV" knowing fully well it will be impossible to say No to that performance. 

And V1, my strong, silent, down to earth, always-call-a-spade-a-spade child. 

First question he asked me was "What will you bring me back?" 

The second was a long list of things he wanted me to carry back for him.

And finally came the clincher. 

One day as I asked if he was going to miss me, he looked at me and said, "I will watch lots of TV when you away Mammy. You not let me watch TV. Daddy lets me watch TV all the time"

P.S - In case I wasn't convinced about how much fun they are going to have while I am gone, here is the proof.

I had left Vj with the boys at the hair salon while I went to do the weekly grocery shopping. Came back both have ended up with mohawks and are walking around proclaiming "this haircut is so cool". 

Lost and Found Resolutions

"Are we fighting?" asked my 3 and a half yr old.

"Of course we are fighting! I am very, very angry with you" I replied curtly, turning away.

I was furious.

V2 had just vomited out his entire medicine.

And when I asked him why he did that, he laughed. 

Simply Laughed.
In. My. Face.

I knew V2 had thrown up not because he gagged and couldn't help himself, but because this was his way of showing me "this is what will happen if you force me to do what I don't want to do".

There he stood, giving me his trademark roguish grin, like he always did, expecting to charm his way out of trouble. Except at this point, I wasn't up to sharing his sense of humour.

The boys had missed school and were home the entire day. 

Which basically meant I had spent all my day yelling "No" and "Don't" in increasingly frantic tones every 90 seconds; at home, at the doctor's and at the restaurant we had our meal in; everywhere we went, we had a repeat of the same story.

And in a fit of madness, to cheer myself up, I had gobbled up an entire pizza at lunch. Even though it was my first pizza in 6 months, I was unable to shake off the guilt; and after the initial carb-cheese induced euphoria had died down, I had begun feeling miserable. Just when I thought matters couldn't get any worse, on entering the word pizza on a mobile app that calculates calories consumed, I had discovered that one meal mistake alone had cost me around 1200 calories; about 200 calories more than what I consume in all my meals added together each day.

Needless to say, at this point, I wasn't feeling very amenable to sharing V2's sense of humour about vomiting out his medicine.

Also I was worried.

Unlike India, most medicines here are not over the counter.

The thought of having to go back to the doctor and wait another 2hrs just to get a replacement, was not adding any sunshine to my already grim day.

"We cannot fight." V2 insisted, wiping away his tears.

"Why? Why we cannot fight?" I asked, unyielding.

At this point, I was so mad, I wasn't even paying attention to my grammar.

"We cannot fight because it is not nice. YOU said fighting not nice." he said.

"Oh" I said, as it slowly started dawning on me that I was having a heated argument with a boy who wasn't even 4!

V2 saw me soften and went for the kill.

"You said not to call people 'silly' and then you called me a silly boy. I am not a silly boy. You saying rude things to me. You cannot talk like this to me."

V2 has always been far more articulate than most kids his age. 

He is also far more articulate than his twin brother.

But I didn't expect to have a 3yr old point out that my behaviour was inappropriate. 

And hurtful to his self esteem.

"What is this new generation coming to?" was my first reaction.
After all, in all these years, I never had the presence of mind, nor the spunk to inform my parents how they should speak to me. I still don't, but that is a different debate altogether which we shall leave for another day.

But no matter what way I looked at it, the chap had a valid point. 

In my anger, I had overlooked the fact that the person speaking to me, is a little individual in his own right. Who has (almost) exactly the same feelings I do. And who expects exactly the same courtesy I expect from him/ her. 

I felt as if someone had poured a jug of ice cold water over my head.
So there was nothing I could do except say I was sorry. 

After he went to bed, I sat there for a long time, pondering over what he said.

Like every parent, I knew when I started, that I will be the first role model in my child's life.
And like most, I began with loads of resolutions and good intentions. 

The first being a strict "do unto them as I would have them do unto me" code; which means no smacking, no shouting, no snatching things from their hands and no high-handedly saying "Because I say so" when they demand to know the reason why I wish them to do things they find particularly unpleasant or unnecessary.

And the second, to never let my fears and prejudices get in the way of them enjoying their childhood; whether it means letting them climb the highest rungs of the monkey bars on their own even when my heart is in my mouth or letting go each time they want to do things on their own or allowing them to be who they are and do things in their own time without judgement, pressure or comparison.

But somewhere along the way, in the day to day struggle of running behind the kids; begging, pleading and trying to manage not one, but two opinionated toddlers, sometimes it is easy to make small slips and let reality cloud over your good intentions. 

Sometimes, is just easier to snatch that glass away from your kid when he refuses to hand it over to you after you have asked for it thrice; or when he has spent his entire dinner blowing spit bubbles into it. 

Sometimes, in spite of your best intentions to be the mother who encourages creativity and imagination, you end up sending the kid crying off to bed, without the bed time story that he loves so much, because he has been trying your patience all evening by stuffing his carrots in his mouth at the dinner table, while pretending to be the walrus he has been reading about. 

Sometimes, when you are in a supermarket and your kids are running around, laughing, having fun; all you can think of is how to stop your worst nightmare of them crashing into the aisle with the ketchup bottles, from coming true. So you start handing out threats of future punishments without stopping to even check if they are touching anything. And you end up never appreciating the fact that each time you say No to something they ask for, they simply nod their head and tell each other, "it must be expensive", instead of throwing a tantrum. 

Sometimes you are just so caught up with bringing sense and order into your life; that you don't realise that of late, "No" and "Don't" precede almost every sentence that comes out of your mouth. And "I shall take away your dinosaur/ bicycle/ scooter/ jeep" has come to replace most attempts at reasoning/ negotiation. You forget that the person you are admonishing for "behaving like a baby" is actually not much older than a baby! And that instead of holding on to and enjoying his childhood while it lasts, you treat it with exasperation and wish he behaved more like a grown up. 

And much as I hated admitting it to myself, I had to acknowledge that I was so caught up in demanding obedience; with laying my word as the law; that I had forgotten that it is normal for a 3 yr old to vomit out a medicine he doesn't like. 

And that I cannot say "you silly boy" to child when I have specifically informed him the word "silly" is rude and unacceptable. 

It had slipped my mind that as a parent, you need to first be real, be indulgent, be fair and be forgiving.... 

That you need to measure up to the same standards you expect from your kids.

That you cannot stray away from the code you have set for them to follow.

I had to concede that somewhere along the way, I had drifted off-course.

And that it took the good sense of a 3yr old to remind me of what was amiss. 

'If I had my child to raise all over again' ~  Diane Loomans

If I had my child to raise all over again,

I'd build self esteem first, and the house later.

I'd finger paint more, and point the finger less.

I would do less correcting and more connecting.

I'd take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.

I would care to know less and know to care more.

I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.

I'd stop playing serious, and seriously play.

I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.

I'd do more hugging and less tugging.

I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often.

I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.

I'd model less about the love of power,

And more about the power of love.

The new school

“You can drag my body to school but my spirit refuses to go.” 

~  The Essential Calvin and Hobbes

"I don't want to go to school Mammy"

It's Monday morning. 

The one day of the week, I look forward to with a mixture of eager anticipation and relief; especially after a weekend filled with running behind the brats and begging them to eat at every meal; with breaking up fights and soothing frayed tempers; till my own gives up somewhere along the way. 

The handyman is coming to discuss where to hang the paintings. 

The AC repair guy is coming in the afternoon.
The CV is taking forever to be updated and sent off to the placement consultants.

I think of all the other chores I have lined up for today and wonder how I am going to deal with them if the going to school doesn't happen. 

"Whaaaaat? Whyyyyyy?" I ask in a panic. 

"I don't like school" comes the refrain.
"But you have to go to school everyday. All boys and girls have to" I explain patiently.
V2 is equally patient, as if explaining to someone whose comprehension skills need serious handholding. "But I don't want to go to school again and again and again Mammy". 

No, no, no. 

This is not good. 

This cannot be happening so soon.
We have (hopefully) years and years of going to school ahead of us. We cannot be encountering ennui this early on.

So I put on my most animated face and try cover up the panic I am feeling inside. 

"But you like going to school" I chirp with an excitement I am nowhere close to feeling.

Pat comes the answer from V2. "No I don't. You like going to school." 

Hmmmmm . . . . . . . that's real astute of the kid to have figured that out so fast, I think.  

"But you have so much fun in school" I continue. 

The brats refuse to be swayed. 

"No I don't. I have fun at home." V1 joins in with his brother. 

"But today is music. Don't you love music?" I plead.

"What! Music again?" groans V2.

It's time to pull the last ace up my sleeve. 

"Well, when you come back, I will let you have a Kitkat today" I say. 

And with that, the crisis is averted; at least for now. 

As I continue packing their bags and snack boxes, I think back to how different this was on the day V1 and V2  started their new school.

Exactly 2 weeks back, on the 15th of January, the Vs started their new school.

Given the fact that the Vs had been at home these last 2 months and that we had just relocated from another country and left all their friends and many a thing that is familiar behind; I had been terribly worried about how long they would take to settle in this time. Add to it the fact that they would have to go in a school bus on their own and that this school was not walking distance from our home like their previous play-school in London, didn't make matters any easier for me.

Every day I talked to them about how they were no longer babies and so would be going in a "big boy bus" and to a "big boy school". And everyday, a part of me imagined a thousand and one scenarios that had me terrified - what if they lost their identity tag and boarded the wrong bus back; what if they got off at the wrong stop; what if someone bullied them in the bus; what if they dropped their snack box etc etc etc.

We did many dry runs to make sure they got ready on time to catch the bus. We even did dry runs of opening the snack box without dropping the food and of wearing the identity tag to make sure they never got rid of it (yes you guessed right, I have a bad case of OCD). And what to do in case they discovered the loss of their name tag till they knew the procedure by heart.

And then the day to go to school arrived. I took them in a cab to drop them as it was their first day.  While I was feeling all dewy-eyed and overly emotional about their going off to a big school and kept remembering that statement about how letting your children go is like watching your heart walk outside your body and being unable to do a thing about it; the boys were experiencing no such bouts of soppiness. Instead they were miffed that I had not let them take the school bus they had been waiting to ride.

As I waited for the teacher to take the children in, I watched the other kids; some were sniffling; some were crying, some were quietly clinging to their moms. And my brats? They had already climbed over the gate and were swinging on it like two miniature Tarzans and simultaneously running around trying to peep into the other classrooms.

When the teacher came to take them to the classroom and all the other kids clung even more tightly to their mommies, I waited to see (a little hopefully I must admit) if this was when my brats would lose their bravado and run to me.
No such luck.
Each instead gave me a stern look and said, "You go now Mammy. I am a big boy now."
But I still went along, unable to let go; unable to say goodbye that easily.
And also because the other mommies were all going to the classroom with their kids and I didn't want to be the only odd one out.
Not this early in the semester anyway.

I needn't have bothered. The teacher took the kids to the playground and my sons didn't even spare me a second glance. With a hurried "bye Mammy" V1 and V2 rushed off to conquer the monkey bars.

Suddenly, as I was leaving, V2 ran up to me. I knelt down with a smile, to envelop him in a big hug thinking how my little V2, who always hangs around me like my conjoined twin, will always remain his Mammy's little boy.
And then he looked at me and said, "No come to pick me up Mammy, I come in school bus"

The year of conversations

As 2012 winds down, I sat down to introspect as to what kind of a year this has been for me (a few glasses of wine for lunch will do that for you, the introspection that is) and I realized that while this has been a year of a memorable events and changes - seeing our first snow fall, mastering toilet training, letting go of the pacifier and the bottle of milk at night, graduating to big boy beds and bicycles, loads of road trips and finally moving cities and countries; it has also been a year of conversations... many a memorable chat with my two boys. 

The norm in our household earlier had been thus - I talk non stop and the husband switches off while pretending to listen. In fact he got so good at it, he could repeat exactly what I had said, word for word, without any of it having percolated into his head.

I had expected the boys to take after him in their conversation skills and talk in monosyllables but as of now they seem to have my gift of the gab and keep yapping all the time.

And with every passing month, as their vocabulary grows richer; and as they learn to use plurals (giraffes-ses and clothes-ses, which always reminds me of Gollum from LOTR); as they experiment with past tense (broke-ed, eat-ed, sleep-ed et al); as they learn to twist the difference between 'accident' and 'deliberate' to their advantage (the  perpetrator always claims his crime was an "accident" while the victim invariably insists it was deliberate) and as they discover the power of adjectives ( for instance V2 warning V1 with a"Get away from the TV or you become an old woman like Mammy"), I have been witness to many a memorable conversation which has invariably left me amused or rolling with laughter and on a few occasions, speechless.

As the year winds down and as these memories fade away, I wanted to record these for posterity. 

So here are a few of my favourites of this year....

1. A Mammy's job? 

Every morning, as we walked hand in hand to the school, the boys and I had some conversation or the other; some days we talked about the boy who ran away to the moon, some days we discussed superheroes and their clothes, food habits and weapons of choice. Some days we stopped to watch the fox that came for food every morning to the home for the elderly, right at the beginning of the lane where we lived or we talked about the chestnut cankers lying on the road and the squirrels for whom those cankers were a treat.

That day, since they had asked me before if my favourite hobby (apart from reading and taking pictures) was looking after them, I decided to get their thoughts on what a mummy’s job is/ should be. 

So, never one to waste time beating around the bush, I jumped in directly, “What do you think a mummy’s job is?”

V2 thought for a while and went first “Tell me to be careful”

Me very surprised and thrilled, “Yes, that’s right. What else?”

V2: “To say No if we are naughty”

Me: “Great going!”

V2 is on a roll now “To cook yummy food for us?”

Me “ Okay. What else?”. 

Looks like I have been doing a better job than I had been giving myself credit for. No wonder the compliments are pouring in… 

So thrilled to the core, I turn to V1, “What do you think is Mummy’s job?”

V1 is my not so garrulous child. He speaks less, and uses words more succinctly and conveys what he wants in as few words as possible! 

So I cannot wait to hear what he has to say about his Mammy.

And then V1 speaks. “Mammy’s job is to say No all the time. And be a headache” 

Ouch! 

2. How to not eat your cake and get away with it too....

There is a reason V2 always gets away with murder... 

V1 who knew I was upset about his refusing to eat my bread pudding, decided to make amends, and asked for it on his own at dinner time.  But then the minute he saw it, he forgot all his good intentions and said "No, this is yucky. Don't want it"
(Sigh! All my illusions of being a fantastic cook get smashed to smithereens every single evening!!) 

And then as I start looking crestfallen, V2 says "Mammy, I love it. I love your cooking” 

Then he proceeds to take a tiny ant sized portions and chew on each at a speed which would make a sloth feel like Usain Bolt!

So finally, annoyed I say, “If you love my cooking so much, then why do you not eat your food?” 

To which V2 very considerately explains "Mammy, I like your cooking. But I don’t like eating” 

3. Semantics and a 3yr old..

Yet another day of yelling and shouting at the dinner table. 

I am yelling. V2, as always is taking what seems like forever to eat what is on his plate. 

Suddenly I discover, he has put his head on the arm of the chair and is fast asleep. 

So I wake him up and try putting a spoonful of food in his mouth. 

Two spoonfuls later, I notice he has fallen asleep again. Saliva dribbles out of the corner of his mouth. 

So I feel sorry for the kid, pick him up and carry him to his room to clean him up and put him to bed.

As I lay V2 on his bed, suddenly his flagging energy seems to miraculously make a comeback as the little man immediately opens his eyes and starts jumping.

Me shocked, “You are not sleepy anymore?”

V2 flashes me his trademark roguish, elfish grin. 

Me even more shocked at having been made a fool of by a 3yr old, “You were lying to me?”

V2 still grinning, “No Mammy, I not lying. I pretending”. 

4. Love and War

The boys have been fighting non stop – everything and anything is liable to cause a war these days – from the super hero picture on their underpants to what view one has on their side of the taxi window to snatching each other’s toys to calling each other babies; it is a roller coaster that just doesn’t seem to ever come to a stop. 

I know this is all my bad Karma coming back to visit me; a payback for all those years my sisters and I drove Maa insane with our non stop fights but it is still driving me crazy. 

However today as V2 insists V1 is “annoying me again and again" and refuses to participate in a reconciliatory hug and a “I love you Bhai” end to the squabble, I decide to try a new approach.

Me: “Well I have 2 sisters. Sometimes my sisters annoy me and I get angry and fight with them. But we still love each other. And so we say sorry and we hug each other because sisters love each other. Just like that, we are supposed to love our brother and not fight with them all the time". 

At which point my normally quiet V1 suddenly brightens up and says, “Mammy I have a brother. He annoys me all the time. But I still love him”. 

5.Straight out of the mouth of babes.

Now that we have moved to Singapore and the boys have left behind all their friends and everything that was familiar, one of the topics under frequent discussion is who and what they miss the most about life in London

Vj: "So who do you miss the most amongst your friends back in London?" 

V1: "Raoul and Jojo" 

V2: "Ira and Nisa" 

Vj: "Who else?" 

V2 who is more social of the two, pipes in: "Aunty Gen. And Aunty Savy" 

Vj: "What about people from your school? Clementina? Maria? Luca? Francesca?" 

V2 looks at Vj like one looks at a person with single digit IQ - with a mix of pity and scorn. 

Then he explains patiently: "We cannot miss all the peoples Daddy. Only some peoples" 

Straight out of the mouth of babes, as they say…

6. Church tales of horror

Now for some anecdotes from our once a week visits to church ever since we moved back.

We went to attend Mass in church this December, after a gap of almost a yr. 

And it showed...

"Mammy who is this (pointing to Jesus)? Why is Gonesss Nomo Nomo not here?"

"Mammy why is Jesus stuck there (on the cross)?"

"Mammy who hurt him? Tell me their name?"

"Mammy are they singing sad song because he is hurt?"

"Mammy why is that man ( the priest) talking again and again?"

But the most memorable of all our horrifying church tales would have to be when, during the Christmas service, when in the middle of everyone singing "Gloria in excelsis deo", V1 decided he had enough of "sad songs" people keep singing in church and decided to belt out Happy B'dy Baby Jesus at the top of his voice! And if that wasn't bad enough, he followed it up with a louder, "I want to go potty N.O.W" which resulted in us running out full speed before we got thrown out of church and banned from ever coming back!

And on that note, wishing you all a memorable 2013 full of smiles and laughter....