Color

We were lying in bed this morning, when Nik looked at my arm and said: “Are you brown, mama? Are you brown?”

I said: “Yes, I’m brown.”

Then he looked down at himself and said, in a really soft voice: “I’m white.”

Me: “No, you are brown too, Nik.”

Nik, looking at Anjali: “Anjali’s white.”

Me: “Anjali’s is brown too.”

Pete told me later that I had missed a good opportunity to address light/dark brown.  I was just so taken aback by the comments that I said the bare minimum. 

I guess I should be more on my toes with this kid!

Age

I was a little early to pick Nik up from his social skills class today. I try to get there a few minutes before he’s done so I can observe him with his little friends. Today, they were outside in the yard. His little friend, I__, was playing in the sandbox, and Nik was with five other boys, all bigger (in size) than him. (Not hard, I know!) They were running around, the way little boys do, and then it morphed into a little negotiation of who was allowed to play this game (who knows what the actual game was…that wasn’t the point!).

The tallest boy decided that only those that were aged four and older could join in. One of the other boys, H__, took that up as the gospel and ran around telling everyone, “Only four and older, only four and older can play!” Then J__, who’s four, but will be five soon, turned to Nik and said: “You can’t play, you’re three!”

And Nik shot right back: “I’m NOT three! I’m FOUR! I’m FOUR! I CAN play!”

J__ said: “You’re not four, you’re three!” And turned away. (Ooooh. That made ME mad.)

So Nik came over to the teacher and said: “Tell him, Ms. Kaitlyn, tell him, I’m FOUR!”

Which she proceeded to do. And then J__ said: “Oh, you’re four? Okay. You can play.”

Success.

And then Nik came and sat down at the snack table and said, “Time for a snack.”

Because why not quit while you’re ahead.

Brilliant…just brilliant.

Chandni of Bohemian Rhapsody was sweet enough to present me with this award!

So here’s presenting the Brilliant Weblog award- a prize given to sites and blogs that are smart and brilliant both in their content and their design. The purpose of the prize is to promote as many blogs as possible in the blogosphere. Here are the rules to follow:

1. When you recieve the prize you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link them back
2. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs (or even more) that you find brilliant in their content or design.
3. Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing they were prized with ‘Brilliant Weblog’
4. Show a picture of those who awarded you and those you give the prize (optional).
5. And then we pass it on!

Inexplicably: Love reading her.  Quiet and articulate.

Our Delhi Struggle: Two furriners in Delhi.  And their struggle.

Brown: Love checking out this blog.  Waiting to see myself in there one day. 😉

Mitali: Writes like how I wish I could write.  But can’t.  (I’m so articulate!)

Beth Loves Bollywood: Appeals to the bolly movie lover in me.  Well written analyses of bollymovies.

Welcome to Bombay: A daily update of my favorite city.

Mary has two little lambs: The first person who added me to her blogroll!

Rage

Dear neighbors,

You have been through a lot with us, over the past four years, albeit unwillingly.  You have heard the fights, the joy, the tantrums.  Spring and Fall are the hardest seasons for you, I’m sure, because we open our windows.  And you have to hear the sounds of our very vocal family.  Sorry.  But we have to ventilate.

It must be hard, living next to us.  Because you?  We hardly hear you at all.  You are so quiet.  Almost mouse-like.  Creeping into your house in your car, quickly closing the garage door before we have a chance to make eye contact.  And days go by where we are not sure if you are even there.  Then we see the garage door open.

Yesterday was interesting, wasn’t it?  My girl decided that she was Linda Blair from the Exorcist.  She stopped short of the projectile vomiting.

It all started with us sitting down to a normal lunch.  I heated up some shrimp chow mein for her in a bowl and she sat down at the table.  I got out her bib, like always, and she said: “No bib, mama, no bib.”

I would have let it go, but it was chow mein, with soy sauce that leaves a mean stain, so I said, “No, you have to wear the bib.”

And that, dear neighbors, was the start of it.

Twenty minutes of her screaming her head off, red in the face, rage spewing out of her mouth.  Interspersed with my asking if she wanted to eat, her saying yes, my saying she had to wear the bib, her saying no, my saying then no food, her screaming.  Repeat.

Twenty minutes.

And you would have been proud of me.  Because my new anti-depressants must be working, because I didn’t lose it.  I stayed in control.  Actually even choked back a laugh.  Good thing too, because she was looking at me at that moment, and I have no idea what she would have done if I’d laughed.

I even managed to make Nik his chutney sandwich.  And answer him when he asked, very puzzled, “What’s wrong with Anjali?” 

I even heated up a bowl of chow mein for myself.  Sat down at the table with Nik and took a couple bites.  Looked over at her screaming, sweaty little face and asked her: “Do you want to eat?” 

And she said: “Yes.”
Me: “Can I put your bib on?”
Anju: “Yes, mama, I want the bib on.”

And I put the bib on, gave her a kiss, sat her at the table, gave her the bowl of food, and she started to eat.

So, dear neighbors, I apologize if you were home yesterday.  Around lunch time. 

Love,

Me.

Oh, behave!

Pete’s been gone for a few days and is due back tonight…tomorrow, as far as the kids know, coz it will be well past their bedtime.  The kids and I were in my bedroom, hanging out on the bed, and Nik said, looking over at Pete’s clothes on his dresser: “Those are Daddy’s stuff, mama.  You don’t move his stuff mom.” 

Me: “Yup, that’s daddy’s stuff allright.”

Nik: “Daddy is coming to our house tomorrow, mama.  You want to see Daddy, mama?”

Me: “Yeeesss, do you want to see him?”

Nik: “Yes!” 

Then, after thinking for a little bit: “You have to be kind to my Daddy, mom!  You have to behave!  Okay?”

O-kay!

Mama is sick

So I’m lying in bed this morning, trying to pretend that its still early and that I don’t have to get up soon.  My head is splitting from a sinus headache.  Not a great way to start the morning.

The kids run in.  Nik has the stethescope around his neck and he brings it over to me: “I have to check you mom, you are sick.”  [How did he know?!]

He checks my arm with the steth, then my forehead.  Meanwhile, Anju clambers onto the bed with a ring of keys hanging off her arm, and holding onto a pair of tweezers and the little mirror-on-a-stick thingy that doctors use to check your mouth.  She puts the mirror thingy in my mouth and says, “Oh!”  [Must look real bad in there.]

So I play along, but not really, since I really do have a headache, “Am I okay?”

Nik: “No mama, you have a hegget.*  You need medicine.”

Me: “Do I? What kind of medicine?”

Nik: “You need strawberry medicine.”

mmmmm.

 

*His word for headache

Big Girl

So now my little baby wants to try wearing “big gihl” underwear. 

She’s two.  Which she loves to tell me.  “I’m two, mom, I’m two.”

So we broke out the 7-pack of princess (cringe) underwear.  And she picked Belle to start with.  Though I wanted her to try Ariel first.

I explained the rules: No peeing or pooping in the underwear.  If she wants to pee or poop, she has to tell me or run to the bathroom.  She said okay, and then said “I go poop mama.” So we ran to the bathroom, and I plopped her on the toilet, showed her how to hold on, and then we waited.  And waited.  And waited.

No poop.  Then she said, “I’m all done, mama.”

And she’s in the playroom right now, listening to a cd on her player, banging away on some instruments.  Hopefully she won’t get so lost in her musical reverie that she forgets about her bodily functions.

I’m just sayin’.

I’m five!

The other night, the kids were sitting with me in my office, looking through toy catalogs while I was working.  They kept busy, pointing out toys they liked, arguing over who would get which toy, etc. 

Then Nik came over to me with a leaflet in his hand and said, “This one is to me, mama, and this one is to Anjali.”  [He says “to me” when he means “for me”]  He was pointing to a set of tabletop sandbox toys.

I looked over and said, “Okay, maybe later.”

Then he said, “I want this for my Sharptooth Birthday Party, mom.”

Me: “You’ve already had your pirate birthday party for when you turned four.  So, if you’d like, you can have a dinosaur birthday party when you turn five.”

Nik, after thinking furiously: “I’m five!”