So much to say

…..that I’m going to keep it short.

Height of sibling rivalry: The Bean bawling loud and long, ‘But he just put a bandaid yesterday. Why doesn’t my turn ever come?’

Height of love for a grandparent: The Bean tells her father that she wants to shave her head. The OA asks why. The Bean responds, ‘Because I want to look like G’pa.’

Height of bargaining: The Brat asking for an extra hour of television, ‘Can I watch a cartoon? No? Animal Planet? No? Well, how about some news at least?’

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It’s a strange world our kids inhabit where they know what a khurpi as well as a Kindle is. A couple of days into the iPad and they know what they’re doing with it. Clearly depriving them of technology all this while didn’t damage them permanently. I hide it away and they don’t miss it or even ask for it. Nice. Let’s see how long this lasts. Thankfully the Brat still asks for the garden from the old house and the Bean wants to go to school to water the seedling she planted before the summer holidays began.

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The Brat waking a sleeping Bean: Ma, I’ll kiss her so that she wakes up smiling.

The Bean waking a sleeping Brat: Let’s rub some cake on his face, shall we?!

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How I know the Brat is a bigger influence on the Bean than I am. The Bean tells me, ‘Ma, A said that she is a good girl and I am a gandi (bad) girl.

Me: What? I hope you told her that $%#^#%^

Bean: No, I told her that she is good, I am good, everyone is good.

Errr, yes.  Clearly everyone but your mother, is good!

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Cousin J to the energetic Bean bouncing off her jet-lagged grandfather’s prone form, ‘Bean, stop jumping on his bum, he’s your grandfather!

Bean – Because he is my grandfather I can jump on his bum if I want to.

Anyone care to argue that logic?

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The doll G’pa and Nani gifted the Bean has taken over our home. I was handed the doll and told, “I’m going to office, you take care of my baby.” Ye Gods, is this what the future holds in store for me? Taking care of my grandchildren after rearing my own? What am I doing wrong?

Thankfully the maama (aka the Brat) came to the rescue and took the baby for a walk in the stroller so that I could go back to my excuse for a job.

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The piece de resistance – A jet lagged Nani falls asleep mid-lullaby and the Brat nudges her awake and asks with deep concern – “Nani, are you buffering too?”

Yes, now you give the standing ovation you’ve been holding back

Cheater cheater

Edited to add – this post was written in September 2009 and forgotten! Conversations, cheating and insults have grown more complicated in the two years that have gone by since.

So the OA and his brats play a game where they ‘insult’ each other by calling each other animal and bird names.

OA: You… wombat

Brat: You caterpillar

Bean: You elephant (What else?!)

OA: You eel

Brat: You pigeon

Bean: You amanello (She means armadillo)

Brat: You wolf

And so it goes on 45 minutes while I struggle to get some work done, turning around and once in a while throwing in a few insults of my own – You Kangaroo,  or you platypus!

And then suddenly the OA who thinks he is playing with kids and no one is really listening to him, goes: You clam chowder!

Without missing a beat or looking up from my PC I say: You cheat!

The OA collapses under the weight of his conscience and two children who throw themselves on him and beat the crap out of him for cheating. The truth shall prevail

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This nugget is from the present.

Cousin J asks generally, What have Dipta bhaiya and Tina didi named the baby?

Maid answers – Drishti. Bangali hai (in an attempt to explain why the name is an unfamiliar one to her)

The Bean pipes up – Bangali nahi, bachcha hai.

I love the clarity of thought kids have

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Reason # 2348 for loving the Brat.

The Brat banging on the toilet door, “Mama, mama? hurry up and come out. I’ve come to hug you and love you.”

On sharing and more

Night falls and it is dinner time in the small town of Nana-G’pa.

And as usual the Bean is leading the fossils a merry dance.

Finally G’pa bribes her – Finish your dinner and you will get a chocolate.

And then he puts aside two for her and two for the Brat.

They have their dinner and the Brat turns his chocolates down – I don’t want chocolates, my teeth will get spoilt. Chamathu child, this! (- Are you proud of me, Deej?)

So G’pa puts the two chocs aside for himself (he does have a sweet tooth!)

The Bean on the other hand, is my daughter and patience is not a virtue she holds dear. She literally inhales her chocs and then climbs on to G’pa’s chest,  eyeing the two chockies put aside … “Now look, G’pa. There’ll be no fighting. Let’s share our chocolates nicely. No saying mine, mine, yours, yours…”

Save your sympathy. That man deserves to be harassed by his grand daughter, for all the chocolates he whacked off me, in my childhood. My daughter, my blood shall avenge me. Jiyo mere Karan-Arjun.

There’s just no arguing

It’s late evening, Nani and G’pa are exhausted after a day of chasing two little demons. They buy themselves a reprieve by bribing them with two little foil wrapped chocolates. But one little pair of greedy eyes isn’t content with it. It looks up behind Nani at the shelf where a box holds some more foil wrapped chocolates and badly wants some more.

Bean: Nani, would you like to give me something shiny and red from your shelf?

Nasty Nani (brusquely): No, it is almost dinner time and I don’t want to give you anything shiny, red, purple, blue, or green.

The Bean takes a walk around the room, thinking over her strategy. She returns.

Bean: Nani, would you like to think again, about giving me something shiny and red from your shelf?

Nani: I am not thinking about anything at all, thank you very much.

Bean takes a walk around the room and returns: Nani, I’d really like you to give me something red and shiny from your shelf.

Nani gives up all attempts at discipline and hands over the red, shiny thing.

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Since the kids are there for 3 weeks and most kids tend to forget everything during school holidays, Nani and G’pa have been given strict instructions on giving the babies some colouring or writing to do everyday. Life being the way it is, the grandparents refuse to make their grandchildren study and a sweet tempered teacher from Chhota Nana’s nursery school is asked to come over and teach/play with the Brat for an hour everyday so that he doesn’t come back to Delhi like a slate wiped clean. The poor teacher has been run ragged and all because the Brat is finally living up to his nick. Home is no place for a teacher to be, he believes and so he is well within his rights to refuse to study.

The teacher on the other hand is doing her best to befriend the Brat before moving on to an education.  “Can we be friends?” she asks.

Brat appraises her height and says: No, grown ups and small people can’t be friends.

Teacher promptly kneels down so that she is his height: There, now you and I are both small people. Can we be friends now?

Brat ponders, then climbs up on the bed so that he is higher than her and says: Not really. Now I am a grown up and I don’t want to be friends with a small person.

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Having been told by Brat’s old school that we were turning him into a social retard (in pretty much so many words) we tried to remedy it by showing him cartoons that his peers might be watching and so on and so forth. The Calvin-ish Brat suddenly confronted with super heroes took to them with a vengeance and nowadays its impossible to hold a conversation with him because he only responds to the name of Batman. He has owned Batman underwear for at least two years but paid it no heed until now.  A few days ago I came home to a crimson faced maid who on questioning responded that she refuses to be seen in public with the Brat. He has in all innocence been pulling down his shorts and lifting up his teeshirt to show an unwilling audience his Batman underwear and vest!

Nani and G’pa took them to Banaras over the weekend and as they hopped out of the car and walked into the hotel, the hotel staff greeted them and asked them their names.

I’m Batman, says the Brat.

And I’m Catwoman, says the Bean.

When told that they need haircuts, the Brat only agreed to go after being told that it would be a Batman haircut. The Bean gave it some thought and said she’d only go if she got a Poison Ivy haircut. *rolls eyes*

And the piece de resistance, an unsuspecting kitten who wandered into Nani-G’Pa’s garden has been kidnapped and locked up in their bedroom and each time Nani suggests setting it free, the babies throw themselves on the floor and sob like their hearts are breaking. It’s been named – BatCat.

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Also, for all the mommies reading this, almost all of us have had acute cases of mommy guilt. Go here and participate in a contest by telling your mommy guilt story. You might just win something! Hurry, there’s barely a week to go!

Identity crisis anyone?

The Bean has had the family in splits since she got there.

A few samples.

Someone nibbles on the Bean’s cheek and she looks in shock and goes – “Hey! Don’t do that! I am not a noodle.”

Chhota Nana who was nibbling on her ugly toes got a yelp and a “No, no! Don’t do that. You’re not a dog!”

He died laughing, but was also very grateful to her for solving that issue. Now he won’t go through life wondering if he is a dog or a man.

Anyone else want a free consultation?

PS: Reminds me of the old joke about some days you’re the pigeon, some days you’re the statue. In this case, some days you’re the noodle, some days you’re the dog – eat or be eaten!!