The Bean walks in. Carrying a handbag. Hair neatly combed, dressed for the day. I look at the very girly image and sigh. Then she delicately puts her bag down, pulls out a plastic gun – and shoots her father. I look into the bag and find it full of balls and a dumper truck.
So much for gender stereotypes.
The Brat is taking what he learns in school too seriously. He walks around the house like a little Gestapo poking his head into kitchens and bathrooms saying – “Paani band karo, duniya mein paani bahut kam hai. Waste nahi karo, didi. Hey, turn off the tap. Don’t waste water, there isn’t enough on earth.” It has now reached a stage where we all lock the door if we’re washing our hands and the maid stops washing utensils the moment he walks in.
Also, whenever the OA and I scold him for something, he turns around and lectures us on blood rushing to our heads and us dying. *koff koff* Already. I have a feeling that between his logical arguments and the gun-toting Bean, we’re not going to survive their teens.