Said the giant before Jack whooped his bottom and took away his essence of being a giant altogether!
Ok...how does that make any sense you ask? I'll tell you...just let me spin out my tale a bit more...
Parenting. Glorious parenting. Tis fun. Tis joyous. Brings tears to your eyes at times (for many reasons, not all of them good) but god dammit! Why does it have to be so HARD???!!!
One mom I met a few months back at the doctor's office said something which is SO true for most of us...we wait for our babies to talk and take their first steps and then when they achieve said milestones all we seem to be capable of telling them is SHUSH and DON'T RUN AROUND!
If my speech was transcribed throughout the day (like a court reporter does) I have a feeling most of it would start like this (especially when taken in conjunction to my communication with MLM):
Morning (before coffee)- moan, groan, grumble, curse (while stepping on some toy which has wheels or a part sharp enough to poke).
Waking up MLM- (singsong) Hey Buddy..waaaaake upppp! Good morningggg! How are you todayyy? Kissy kissy, cuddley-wuddley and all that jazz.
Getting him to brush his teeth and bathe while keeping an eye on the wall clock- To the tune of This is the Way We Go To School- this is how we brush our teeth...la la la la laaaa.
On seeing that aforementioned teeth are not getting brushed- WOULD YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH ALREADY!! JESUS CHRIST! YOU NEED A DARN JACK TO PRISE OPEN THIS CHILD'S MOUTH! OPEN UP NOW!!! GOOD BOY...see...pretty white teeth...keep them nice and clean...STOP CHEWING ON YOUR TOOTHBRUSH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! YE GODS..I GAVE BIRTH TO A GOAT!
And so the morning progresses.
On the way to school we sing Eeya Eeya O!! till new requests for songs get delivered right into my ear. And then the exchange becomes like this-
WHY ARE YOU HISSING INTO MY EAR! NO! NO! DON'T FIDDLE WITH THE RADIO...AAARGH TURN IT DOWN..TOO LOUD..NO I DON'T WANT THE WIPERS GOING SWISH SWISH..IT'S NOT RAINING...OK FINE..NO! DON'T TOUCH THE HAZARD LIGHTS...I CAN'T SEE THE ELEPHANT IN THE CLOUD NOW I'M DRIVING! SIT DOWN NOW!!
And so we get dropped off to school, exchange kisses and promises of being good and having fun yada yada.
Then comes the coming back from school part- ( again imagine singsong happy-happy la-la voice...to start with): How was school? Did you have fun! What did you see? Did you eat your snacks? Wha..what...! NO NO...NO CHOCOSHOT! STOP LYING DOWN ON THE ROAD...NO KFC NOW EITHER...WOULD YOU PLEASE NOT KICK MY SEAT WHILE YOU THROW THE TANTRUM...AARGH....GOD! I MISS BEING SINGLE!!
Then comes the bath and evening play time: (less singsong...cheer is decidedly being summoned)- Let's go bathe and get fresh...you're all stinky poo-poo (yes we baby talk..so shoot me!). HANG ON HANG ON...DON'T POUR MY FACE WASH INTO THE TUB..THOSE AREN'T BUBBLES...OK YES THEY ARE BUBBLES BUT NOT YOUR BUBBLES..THOSE ARE MY BUBBLES...SIGH..TAKE IT ALL...just sit down and get clean you force of nature...
Going to the playground- Who's going to have FUN?! YES! That's right...10 minutes into the playtime...please share the swings...plEASE...PLEASE..WOULD YOU JUST GO PLAY ON THE SLIDES OR SOMETHING...IT'S BEEN AN HOUR AND MY HANDS ARE GOING TO FALL OFF..I'M NOT PUSHING YOU ANYMORE AND THAT'S FINAL! AM LEAVING...DON'T THINK AM BLUFFING..AM GOING...WHOA...HANG ON...DON'T RUN IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION THE CAR IS THIS WAY...grumble grumble...curse curse...pine for alcohol and wish for a husband who worked from home!!
Bed time: RINSE YOUR MOUTH. GO PEE. GET INTO BED. LET'S READ YOUR BOOKS FOR THE UPTEENTH TIME ON THE SAME PAGE, SAME LINE, SAME WORD....
By the time the little eyes close and the HUK (hug) and kisses happen the voice is again mellow and singsong and thinking ' awww...isn't he beautiful? Yeah...I can do this another day. NOT RIGHT NOW...later. much later.
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
14 October, 2013
16 May, 2013
The Curse of the Bored Child
A bored child is a mother's worst nightmare. It's even worse than a child who is throwing a tantrum because at least a tantrum is directed at getting something or a result of something being denied.
A child who is bored is a dangerous element in nature and in his mother's life.
A child experiencing ennui will look at things differently and objects and ideas hitherto not in his scope of thinking will suddenly appear to him and make him do things that become the bane of his mother's existence and also put him in some amount of danger.
Take my very own bored child for example: He walks around half naked most of these because of the heat and suddenly took it upon himself to lash out at everything with his grandfather's belt. He liked the swoosh of the belt as it cut through the air and when I found him he was perilously close to whipping himself on his bare back with a belt that was being thrown about with a lot of energy and speed.
A bored child will also drape themselves over their mother in a manner that prohibits that poor woman from doing anything. I mean anything. A loo break becomes manna from the gods. A quick shower becomes a forbidden luxury. One that is disrupted every 2 minutes by a whine or a pounding on the door to give miscellaneous objects since the little emperor wants to be entertained.
All the while the bemused mother's busy trying to make sure the soap doesn't get into her eyes and hurrying so much that she almost ends up moisturizing with the conditioner in her haste.
When I see my son in these phases I am alarmed since I have NO CLUE how to keep him entertained. I think of cool, open meadows where he can gallop around like an unbridled horse or leap out of the ocean like a dolphin (make that a Great White with jaws agape after a hapless seal).
And I often feel sorry for myself because I sure as hell did NOT know WHAT I was getting myself into the day this chap was born.
It must be tough being a child, wanting to do so many things and yet having so many restrictions that the adults impose on the immediate environment; especially those which are inexplicable in a child's reckoning.
On the other hand, his demeanor and intensity makes me think he can make it big as a cage fighter.
Maybe once he's in the cage I can finally put my feet up and read a book or sip an unhurried cuppa tea.
A mother can always dream.
A child who is bored is a dangerous element in nature and in his mother's life.
A child experiencing ennui will look at things differently and objects and ideas hitherto not in his scope of thinking will suddenly appear to him and make him do things that become the bane of his mother's existence and also put him in some amount of danger.
Take my very own bored child for example: He walks around half naked most of these because of the heat and suddenly took it upon himself to lash out at everything with his grandfather's belt. He liked the swoosh of the belt as it cut through the air and when I found him he was perilously close to whipping himself on his bare back with a belt that was being thrown about with a lot of energy and speed.
A bored child will also drape themselves over their mother in a manner that prohibits that poor woman from doing anything. I mean anything. A loo break becomes manna from the gods. A quick shower becomes a forbidden luxury. One that is disrupted every 2 minutes by a whine or a pounding on the door to give miscellaneous objects since the little emperor wants to be entertained.
All the while the bemused mother's busy trying to make sure the soap doesn't get into her eyes and hurrying so much that she almost ends up moisturizing with the conditioner in her haste.
When I see my son in these phases I am alarmed since I have NO CLUE how to keep him entertained. I think of cool, open meadows where he can gallop around like an unbridled horse or leap out of the ocean like a dolphin (make that a Great White with jaws agape after a hapless seal).
And I often feel sorry for myself because I sure as hell did NOT know WHAT I was getting myself into the day this chap was born.
It must be tough being a child, wanting to do so many things and yet having so many restrictions that the adults impose on the immediate environment; especially those which are inexplicable in a child's reckoning.
On the other hand, his demeanor and intensity makes me think he can make it big as a cage fighter.
Maybe once he's in the cage I can finally put my feet up and read a book or sip an unhurried cuppa tea.
A mother can always dream.
06 February, 2013
Hold A Mirror Up to Me
Last night during dinner Red saw a side of MLM he hadn't seen before and till date has only heard me speak of. His adult side.
The offspring's speech isn't as clear as many of his peers and often in his hurry to say a lot of things he garbles sounds up and they sound funny.
On many occasions we ( he and I together) have a laugh about it but last night it turned out he was pretty darn serious about what he was trying to say and my laughing at that moment made him quite peeved.
He gave me the look that my mother, father and many a teacher have leveled at me over the years. It's a combination of when-will-you-grow-up-and-act-your-age+I-will-wait-till-you-stop-your-nonsense-and-then-continue-with-what-I-have-to-say-instead-of-lowering-myself-to-your-level.
He gazed at me in a manner so serious that I was actually taken aback and had a glimpse of him as an adult. If he had the vocabulary he'd have told me to stop acting juvenile!
Having the tables turned on me was not much fun. I realized I was being obnoxious- another word he'll eventually learn and that the balance of power had shifted from me to him in an instant.
Yikes!
The offspring's speech isn't as clear as many of his peers and often in his hurry to say a lot of things he garbles sounds up and they sound funny.
On many occasions we ( he and I together) have a laugh about it but last night it turned out he was pretty darn serious about what he was trying to say and my laughing at that moment made him quite peeved.
He gave me the look that my mother, father and many a teacher have leveled at me over the years. It's a combination of when-will-you-grow-up-and-act-your-age+I-will-wait-till-you-stop-your-nonsense-and-then-continue-with-what-I-have-to-say-instead-of-lowering-myself-to-your-level.
He gazed at me in a manner so serious that I was actually taken aback and had a glimpse of him as an adult. If he had the vocabulary he'd have told me to stop acting juvenile!
Having the tables turned on me was not much fun. I realized I was being obnoxious- another word he'll eventually learn and that the balance of power had shifted from me to him in an instant.
Yikes!
30 June, 2011
?
For the first time since I've been blogging I haven't been able to come up with a title. I was surprised because when blogs are born in the noggin they go through a fairly quick gestation period and the developmental activity is pretty rapid. Of course the process of the birthing is often protracted and not always normal.
Anyhow I've been thinking for a while on the offspring's cognitive processes. I know he processes things well. It's just that he has yet to master language so he can make us understand what he comprehends and how he does so. But watching him is a treat. His reasoning and deduction makes me think to myself what kind of a person might he turn out to be later on.
Because the jury is still out on the whole Nature Vs. Nurture debate I can't quite confidently state that he will definitely exhibit xyz traits. But I do know that both hold water; to an extent.
Case in point- The Mater is a pretty good artist, in terms of sizing something up and reproducing a likeness. She's fairly skilled at the arts and crafts and her brain works pretty damn fast in picking up new techniques in the same field. But I'm all thumbs. Maybe because the Pater is all thumbs? The most creative I've seen him get with a pen or a pencil is turning one of my spelling mistakes on a greeting card into a series of extremely odd-looking dwarfish flowers. But he did do it.
I guess I'm wondering most about creativity. When I used to counsel MBA students a few years back and put them through a psychometric/psychosocial test and later interpret the results for them, I'd find that most of them associated creativity merely with the performing arts. If you danced, painted, sang- you were creative. Else not.
And I remember asking them how they were at problem solving, thinking on their feet, generating solutions, how they ideated, how they perceived various kinds of situations and suddenly they understood how their high scores on creativity were justified.
I've scored a moderate rating on creativity. I think I know why. Creativity is something which needs expression. Merely being able to think creative won't cut it. If I'm able to conceptualize something, anything...it needs to get portrayed somewhere. And creativity and originality aren't inclusive 100% of the time. That's another mistake we make.
While Kaavya Viswanathan situation isn't one we all may find ourselves in, we do need inspiration from somewhere. Where would my blogs come from if I hadn't been able to develop an ability to write? Where would this ability and love for writing come unless I'd read stuff that spoke to me. And how would a style be born in the first place unless I read something good and wanted to be able to write something along those lines.
I don't make a case for plagiarism, but creativity can often be, taking an existing idea and then putting your own spin on it. Hell if that weren't possible, Facebook wouldn't be either and we wouldn't be Superpokin people or playing Zombies and Vampires with people geographically dispersed at any given point of time or day.
But as ever I digress. Will the offspring be good at sports (his father is- I prefer to exercise my fingers by flipping a page), at music (I did manage to learn and forget how to play the sitar and the piano), be an egghead ( javagod father- says it all) or will he just branch out into a whole different direction and do something unexpected.
With schools offering ways of shaping up a child from a playschool level I really have to wonder how much of nurture is going to go head to head with nature and who will ultimately triumph.
I would dearly love it if he made it to Caltech or places of it's ilk. And would also love it if he travelled the world and took pictures and wrote travelogues that I could read.
I don't want him to emulate Gene Simmons though because why break a guitar when you can strum it? :)
Time will tell...and maybe in time he'll read my blogs and we'll see if his mother turned out to be a soothsayer or nayer and if she found an answer to the on going battle of Nature Vs. Nurture.
Anyhow I've been thinking for a while on the offspring's cognitive processes. I know he processes things well. It's just that he has yet to master language so he can make us understand what he comprehends and how he does so. But watching him is a treat. His reasoning and deduction makes me think to myself what kind of a person might he turn out to be later on.
Because the jury is still out on the whole Nature Vs. Nurture debate I can't quite confidently state that he will definitely exhibit xyz traits. But I do know that both hold water; to an extent.
Case in point- The Mater is a pretty good artist, in terms of sizing something up and reproducing a likeness. She's fairly skilled at the arts and crafts and her brain works pretty damn fast in picking up new techniques in the same field. But I'm all thumbs. Maybe because the Pater is all thumbs? The most creative I've seen him get with a pen or a pencil is turning one of my spelling mistakes on a greeting card into a series of extremely odd-looking dwarfish flowers. But he did do it.
I guess I'm wondering most about creativity. When I used to counsel MBA students a few years back and put them through a psychometric/psychosocial test and later interpret the results for them, I'd find that most of them associated creativity merely with the performing arts. If you danced, painted, sang- you were creative. Else not.
And I remember asking them how they were at problem solving, thinking on their feet, generating solutions, how they ideated, how they perceived various kinds of situations and suddenly they understood how their high scores on creativity were justified.
I've scored a moderate rating on creativity. I think I know why. Creativity is something which needs expression. Merely being able to think creative won't cut it. If I'm able to conceptualize something, anything...it needs to get portrayed somewhere. And creativity and originality aren't inclusive 100% of the time. That's another mistake we make.
While Kaavya Viswanathan situation isn't one we all may find ourselves in, we do need inspiration from somewhere. Where would my blogs come from if I hadn't been able to develop an ability to write? Where would this ability and love for writing come unless I'd read stuff that spoke to me. And how would a style be born in the first place unless I read something good and wanted to be able to write something along those lines.
I don't make a case for plagiarism, but creativity can often be, taking an existing idea and then putting your own spin on it. Hell if that weren't possible, Facebook wouldn't be either and we wouldn't be Superpokin people or playing Zombies and Vampires with people geographically dispersed at any given point of time or day.
But as ever I digress. Will the offspring be good at sports (his father is- I prefer to exercise my fingers by flipping a page), at music (I did manage to learn and forget how to play the sitar and the piano), be an egghead ( javagod father- says it all) or will he just branch out into a whole different direction and do something unexpected.
With schools offering ways of shaping up a child from a playschool level I really have to wonder how much of nurture is going to go head to head with nature and who will ultimately triumph.
I would dearly love it if he made it to Caltech or places of it's ilk. And would also love it if he travelled the world and took pictures and wrote travelogues that I could read.
I don't want him to emulate Gene Simmons though because why break a guitar when you can strum it? :)
Time will tell...and maybe in time he'll read my blogs and we'll see if his mother turned out to be a soothsayer or nayer and if she found an answer to the on going battle of Nature Vs. Nurture.
18 March, 2011
The tottering tot and the people in his life
Written on 10th October, 2010
The munchkin completed 14 months yesterday and despite all the comparisons which are inevitable with other tots of his age, am very happy that he's turning into a completely different person from his father and I and is into doing his own thing.
He hasn't learnt fear yet, of that am ambivalent because it stops him from being cautious or listening to warnings about a few things. But at the same time am glad that my fallacies or silly fears aren't getting transferred to him. We make it a point to chase the house lizards instead of my using shrieking and praying for the Divine Hand to strike them dead where they crawl my walls.
He picks up bugs and is a bit picky about his tastes so no unnecessary non-veg stuff has been added in his diet. YET.
As for the people in his life- let's start with my maid. She dotes on him and has been seeing him since he was 26 days old. Every milestone of his she notes and goes and brags about to the other people she works for. They play peekaboo and she's thoroughly tickled when he does his clap-clap and bye-bye. Apparently there aren't too many babies who do it as adorably as mine does :P
His grandparents aka the Mater and Pater. They miss him awfully and keep cooing to him over the speakphone a few times in the day. Am required to furnish details of his escapades and my father (Mr.Impatience himself wrt Moi) keeps telling me to be patient and not scold him. How the tide's turned...
My mother sings to him over the phone and keeps laughing at his antics and keeps telling me to be careful with him and not let him out of my sight much. Yup...I'll do that when the house needs remodelling and I can't afford a proper decorator. The mini me will tear stuff down; the walls too if need be.
His playmates in the building- are few. Most kids are taken care of by ad hoc nannies the parents supervise from the building or via mobiles. The kids try to climb into his pram and seem quite attracted to something in him which I can't quite place. He's unashamedly aloof with another boy in the building, reserving his smiles and claps for the fairer sex. Amongst whom, the fairer the better is the name of the game :)
His father- has become his partner in crime of late. Teaching him to throw stuff, further and further each time is what these two love to do. And Red is also his sanctuary from the mad mommy and her barks and occasional bites.
His mommy aka moi- well..we test the boundaries of our relationship everyday. He knows me better than I know him. He pushes my buttons like few others do and is very quick to manipulate. Kisses are given rapidly to avoid slaps on the bum and deafness is feigned when I'm not compliant enough or other more pliable people are around :)
He eats my food, demands my soft drinks and ice cream and my cellulite is his trampoline.
What more does a child need?
A dog maybe?
The munchkin completed 14 months yesterday and despite all the comparisons which are inevitable with other tots of his age, am very happy that he's turning into a completely different person from his father and I and is into doing his own thing.
He hasn't learnt fear yet, of that am ambivalent because it stops him from being cautious or listening to warnings about a few things. But at the same time am glad that my fallacies or silly fears aren't getting transferred to him. We make it a point to chase the house lizards instead of my using shrieking and praying for the Divine Hand to strike them dead where they crawl my walls.
He picks up bugs and is a bit picky about his tastes so no unnecessary non-veg stuff has been added in his diet. YET.
As for the people in his life- let's start with my maid. She dotes on him and has been seeing him since he was 26 days old. Every milestone of his she notes and goes and brags about to the other people she works for. They play peekaboo and she's thoroughly tickled when he does his clap-clap and bye-bye. Apparently there aren't too many babies who do it as adorably as mine does :P
His grandparents aka the Mater and Pater. They miss him awfully and keep cooing to him over the speakphone a few times in the day. Am required to furnish details of his escapades and my father (Mr.Impatience himself wrt Moi) keeps telling me to be patient and not scold him. How the tide's turned...
My mother sings to him over the phone and keeps laughing at his antics and keeps telling me to be careful with him and not let him out of my sight much. Yup...I'll do that when the house needs remodelling and I can't afford a proper decorator. The mini me will tear stuff down; the walls too if need be.
His playmates in the building- are few. Most kids are taken care of by ad hoc nannies the parents supervise from the building or via mobiles. The kids try to climb into his pram and seem quite attracted to something in him which I can't quite place. He's unashamedly aloof with another boy in the building, reserving his smiles and claps for the fairer sex. Amongst whom, the fairer the better is the name of the game :)
His father- has become his partner in crime of late. Teaching him to throw stuff, further and further each time is what these two love to do. And Red is also his sanctuary from the mad mommy and her barks and occasional bites.
His mommy aka moi- well..we test the boundaries of our relationship everyday. He knows me better than I know him. He pushes my buttons like few others do and is very quick to manipulate. Kisses are given rapidly to avoid slaps on the bum and deafness is feigned when I'm not compliant enough or other more pliable people are around :)
He eats my food, demands my soft drinks and ice cream and my cellulite is his trampoline.
What more does a child need?
A dog maybe?
04 March, 2011
To Ferberize or Not to Ferberize..
There's no question..Ferberize!!
When my son was quite a bit younger and Red and I were still patrolling our room like night watchmen, we were advised to Ferberize him and Ferberize him good!
It was less to do with my being maternal and more to do with a child who didn't understand much of what was going on around him and his two main supports just up and leaving him to cry. So we decided against it and it's only of late that we've felt that the decision was largely an emotional one and not a logical one.
Now that the offspring can practically run around and has given into his intrinsic urge to climb everything climbable, he detests being restrained in any manner unless he's assured of perpetual motion and entertainment. Yeah right! What do I have? Cirque du Soleil in my livingroom? Pshaw!
Anyhow, in order to go and do anything at all these days means having him as my shadow. Normally I wouldn't mind a shadow as cute as him and neither would I mind the constant babble an irritant, but the reaching of his often extends to things harmful for him and a refusal leads to feet stamping and whining.
I can't stand whiny kids. I cant stand mine a tad bit more because he's the cutest most aww le mummum baby in the whole wide world. But even then it's really pushing it when it goes on beyond a point.
So today I left him in his cot and walked around doing some stuff around the house and ignored him. When he started to screech and get red in the face I walked out of the room and half closed the door behind me. He retaliated by gagging himself. When that didn't work ( I peeked to make sure he wasn't throwing up) he finally pulled out the Brahmastra! he called to me plaintively and said "Mamma"...damn that kid! He's good. But I'm better...marginally.
I took him out of his cot expecting to be hugged and exchange kisses and clean his runny nose, when Lo and Behold! The lil dumpling laughed through his tears and clapped his hands.
Now, in time every kid learns that you shouldn't mess with the Mommy person. And so did my kid. But being the ace that he is, am sure that particular point will have to be reinforced daily for the next 2 weeks, at least!
I promptly put him back in the cot, picked up a novel and sat right in front of him reading and oh! did I mention I got myself some tea to add insult to the injury?
So there I was, sipping, reading and ignoring to my heart's content.
He stamped his feet, held his breath, banged his chin against the cot rails and then quietened down and played with his toys till he really got sleepy. Tiny arms were then held out and truce was declared and the Geneva Convention between mother and son was signed.
He now sleepeth and I am left, yet again, marveling at how far ahead kids can think!
But it's like I told Red later, if the kid's old enough to plot how to bamboozle, then he's jolly well old enough to be hoisted on his own petard!
But on a less vengeful note, it makes sense I think for a child to be able to self-soothe. Not because I'm not going to be around or because if I nurture him now it'll spoil him for life. No. The earlier he can self-soothe the faster his own comfort occurs he's a happy baby again. It never hurts to be able to take care of yourself. Even from the cradle onwards.
Now lemme go cry to my mommy about the hard knocks in my life ;)
14 February, 2011
Back again...
Am a little older. Duh! Not much wiser. Duh again! But the happiness has been growing. Yay!
Happiness aka my child is nearly one and hasn't turned into one of those hellions that mothers warn you about. Sadly, only the middle-aged mothers who have sons dating girls unapproved by them warn you about male children being the spawn of the devil. Or something to that effect!
He has gone from a scrawny child to a dumpling and now has lengthened out just right and has a sparkling smile (for girls mainly) and knows just how to manipulate. That is childhood am told.
So from gently cradling his wobbly head, to inducing him to go potty in the lil turtle with the red hatchback, to bamboozling him into having his medicines, hogtying him to clean up his congested nose; we've traversed pretty far. His father and I that is.
And now on the brink of his 1st birthday, all I can remember is an infant dependent on me entirely and each milestone he's attained. Some funnily and some with difficulty.
Would I go down this road again? Ask me after he graduates summa cum laude from somewhere. Hopefully I should have some clarity by then. :p
Happiness aka my child is nearly one and hasn't turned into one of those hellions that mothers warn you about. Sadly, only the middle-aged mothers who have sons dating girls unapproved by them warn you about male children being the spawn of the devil. Or something to that effect!
He has gone from a scrawny child to a dumpling and now has lengthened out just right and has a sparkling smile (for girls mainly) and knows just how to manipulate. That is childhood am told.
So from gently cradling his wobbly head, to inducing him to go potty in the lil turtle with the red hatchback, to bamboozling him into having his medicines, hogtying him to clean up his congested nose; we've traversed pretty far. His father and I that is.
And now on the brink of his 1st birthday, all I can remember is an infant dependent on me entirely and each milestone he's attained. Some funnily and some with difficulty.
Would I go down this road again? Ask me after he graduates summa cum laude from somewhere. Hopefully I should have some clarity by then. :p
12 December, 2010
Babbling Conspiracies
Red went and got his lawn mowed.
The offspring stared at him for quite a while and then gave a tentative smile but smiled nonetheless. All the way back home he kept looking at his father to see if it really was the original big-headed guy :)
Everyone needs a change. Babies need a change from the person hugging them, husbands need a change from the wife's chatter and tune her out via t.v. and well wives changes in many ways.
I find that going shopping for myself and picking up stuff that's ostensibly from Red works for me just dandy!
The kiddo's communication skills have gone up notches. He met a lil compatriot from his Gymboree sessions and after the initial kissy-kissy, patty-patty both of them conspired to go and start rifling through the shelves at M&S. It happened quite suddenly. One moment they were advancing towards each other with arms open and 2 sets of parents all Ahh..Ohh-ing and then they changed course and the deos were under attack..
I wonder what it was they said but there's tremendous coordination amongst the babbling done by tots...ever since I saw Look Who's Talking and now seeing my own kid, I can't help but think they are way ahead of us in their interaction. Just because we don't get them doesn't mean it doesn't sense.
Understanding your kids is just the tip of the iceberg. Getting them to understand you? Well that's where the life time of blood, sweat and tears come in. Or so I've been told by my own parents.
Salut!
P.S: I live with 2 semi-baldies now...the laughter quotient of my life just went up exponentially!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)