… was spent tucked away in beautiful, hilly Mussoorie. It was a lovely choice because it gave us the quiet we craved along with the option of going into town if we wanted some action. G’pa and Nani joined us so you can imagine what fun we had. The OA and I got to sleep in, read in bed and eat till we were at bursting point.
The old knees didn’t give up inspite of us picking a hotel that had endless steps. Here – now do you believe me?
Anyway – the holiday taught me a couple of lessons. Here goes. Children can play with anything, anytime. Even gravel.
That if you get the grandparents to wear hats, its a breeze getting the kids to agree.
That you can look at monkeys as entertainment, not pests – even if they get into your hotel room, rob you of the brownies you spent an hour baking before you left for your holiday – and that you won’t get mad because you’re amused by how enchanted your kids are.
That you can find a bright spot of colour in the midst of dull rooftops.
That a cheesy paddle boat ride that you wouldn’t normally touch with a barge pole is the high point of your child’s holiday.
That the child in you comes to life as you kick around the last remaining bits of snow in drains on the way to Dhanaulti.
That you can tell so much about each child’s temperament by the way they react to a simple situation. The OA swings a leg over the railing and yells down to the kids in courtyard below – “I’m jumping down”. The ever gentle Brat gets upset – “Don’t jump dada – you’ll hurt yourself.” The Bean stretches her arms up and says, “Jumpppppppp!! I’ll catch you.”
That both my kids think they’re royalty and after the holiday woke up in Delhi one morning asking for ‘their own horses’ to be brought around.
That nothing is complete until I’ve shared it with my kids. I’ve been to Cheetal Grand many times but I only felt I’d truly got my money’s worth after the babies visited it this time.