My little drama queen!

So I was vacumming the living room carpet today with Vir being a monkey all around me while I was trying to get my work done. At one point, he was hanging on to the back of one of the couches. I didn't realize that his foot was under the couch and moved it to clean under it, and ended up hurting him a little bit. It was a tiny surface bruise on one of his toes from the fabric of the couch, and he's definitely had more painful, though small bruises in the past as well. But, OH MY GOD the hell that broke loose after this point. I think it was mainly because I was really guilty and apologetic about my carelessness and he knew I would pamper him, but wow this kid can put up a show!! He cried and cried with huge tears which, initially at least were very real because he was in some amount of pain. But, after the first 30 minutes and several different applications of different antiseptic ointments, and all the colors of lotions that he kept demanding I apply on his toe, I think I was fair in asking him to get a grip.


After multiple rounds of "dawaiii lagaaaaaoooooo" (put medicine) and then "dawwaaaaaiiii hataaaaoooo" (remove this medicine) and then "pink lotion laagaaoooooo" (put the pink lotion) and "white lotion lagaaaooooo" (put the white lotion) and "chot lag gayiiiiiiiiii" (I'm hurt, I'm hurrrrrrrrrt), he finally fell asleep. I was happy because I thought this was the end of it and that he would wake up and run off to play having forgotten this traumatic incident. But the drama didn't end here...he woke up 2 hours later and started exactly where he had left off...opened his eyes and screamed "chot lag gayiiiiiiiiii." Of course, he wasn't in pain any more so he kept forgetting that he was "supposed" to be crying. At one point he started chatting away and asked me to go and bring his red car from his room. When I told him to go and get it himself, he was back at it..."waaaaaaaaa....phir se chot lag jayegiiiiiiii....sofe se...eeeeeee!!!" And for added effect and added leverage out of mamma's mistake, he made a great show of limping on one foot when I made him go and get his own cars anyway.

I'm hoping this was all an act, because otherwise it means we went totally wrong in picking a name for him (Vir means brave). Maybe Shah Rukh Khan would have been a better choice!

What's this?

Now that Vir has stopped wearing diapers, at least at home, a whole new situation seems to have opened up for him because he's discovered his little boy part! So, now he runs around the house in his cute little briefs (these things are way cuter than any I remember when I was growing up) all day. And whenever I take them off for him to go to the loo, he runs away without wearing them again with his prized possession in hand grinning and yelling, "ye dekho....kya aa gayaaaaa!!!!" (look what showed up!!)

Disclaimer: Vir, if and when you read this, I know how embarassed you'll be, but it's just too cute for me to not make a record of, and I promise you that all the women in your life will think so too.

My favorite quotes!

• "Mamma....pyjama pehen lo."(Mamma, wear your pyjamas): On waking up in the morning and seeing me in shorts.
• "Bas ho gaya...ab main car mein ja raha hoon....theek hai?" (That's enough...now I'm going in the car, alright?): As he jumps out of bed first thing in the morning and walks out of the room.
• "Ghar mein peshal peshal baby aane wala hai." (There's a special baby coming to my house): To his teacher in class, who thought Peshal is what we were planning to name the little one!
• Mein ice cream lene jaa raha hoon...shop mein....theek hai? (I'm off to the shop to get some ice cream, alright?)

He's talking all the time and everything is so damn cute...I can't really put it down here...you have to hear it! It's like free live entertainment TV except we can't just turn off the switch when we want to sleep.

How do I respond to this??

So Vir absolutely loves the bottom drawer of my bedside table which I've been silly enough to fill with my cherished collection of cute stationery stuff like stickers, letter paper, paper clips, pens, erasers and all sorts of lovelies. I'm being stubborn and not removing this stuff from my drawer because he's just gotta learn that some things are out of bounds for him. And he's learnt it...the temptation to open the goodie drawer just gets too much for him sometimes. So, this morning, he woke up and headed straight for the drawer where he's been eyeing a Winnie the Pooh sticker sheet even though I was right there on the bed. When I called out my usual "Don't even think about it, Vir," this was his response: "Mamma....jaao...aaap please jaao....khana banaao." (Mamma...please go...go and cook food). I didn't know which part to laugh about - the fact that the little brat actually thought this "subtle" trick to get me to leave the room would buy him some time with the coveted drawer, or that he actually told me to go to the kitchen and cook! How do they come up with this? And really...what's next!?

Vir's First Report Card!

I was so surprised when Vir's teacher handed me a report card when I went to pick him up today! I had no idea they write reports for kids this size, but I guess it makes sense as a way to keep track of what they're doing in school and to provide thrills to parents like me!

Here's what it says:

Educator's Comments: Vir walks in with a finger in his mouth, which does not come off till the end of the day. He has now settled down into our programme. Vir enjoys painting and names the colors he is using. He likes playing with play doh too. At western musix, Vir is very attentive, as with storytime. Outdoors, it's the cycle for him or the slideboard.

My comments: "Sky mein aeroplane kahan gaya?" (looking for planes in the sky).

Vir's dowry to his wife from me will be a large, bound collection of report cards and examination answer sheets collected through the years. What great ammunition for her for lazy Sunday afternoons ideally spent making silly comments on old report cards and poking fun at his spelling mistakes in exams.

P.S. I wonder if I'm really as crazy a mother as I sometimes sound on this blog...he gets his first report card and my mind shoots off to a Sunday thirty five years ahead when his wife is making fun of his essay on how he spent his summer holidays.