Whatever problems V and I have, Rahul and I continue as always. We squabble and go in different directions. And after a few minutes, we hug and make up. He drives me wild and I retaliate by pretending not to understand him, which ends in much toddler screaming, often punctuated by his frustrated 'Emm!" which alone makes it worth while.
I like just picking him up and taking him with me wherever I go. I really do. I'd take him to work if it were nearer home. And if the timings were more suitable. And he likes going out, hopping in impatience as I get ready. I love the entranced look in his eyes as he watches me drape a saree and put my hair up. I don't know what he'll grow up to be, but so long as he retains that wonder at the transformation some nice clothes can bring, I think he'll always be my son.
He was speaking so much, in March, but changed all his words somehow while he had his ayah, all fifteen days that she did work for us. I'm not sure why that happened, but now his words are mixed up again. It doesn't bother me too much, because I figure he'll start speaking properly once more when we visit Madras this summer. Being around my parents has always kickstarted his speech skills.
Potty training getting along slowly. Diapers only at sleeptimes and outings, and otherwise he either wears wee underpants or nothing. He has some accidents from time to time, but they are almost always because I've been too busy to remember to take him to the bathroom on schedule or because I didn't understand what he was trying to tell me.
Gayatri gave birth to a little boy on Wednesday and because it was a premature, emergency delivery, Tara spent a night and a day with us before G's mum arrived from Delhi to take over. Rahul and she squabbled all day but two moments won me over. One was when I was bathing the two of them. Rahul done, I soaped Tara and was washing it off when R suddenly joined in, gently washing the soap off her face, rubbing it into her hair(!) I stepped back, truly redundant for a minute. And Tara smiled beautifully at him.
The second thing happened after I left for work. V had just given them both their dinner and T, not having seen her mother in 24 hours, and her father for almost as long, was tired and cranky and decidedly unhappy. V was trying to pacify her but getting nowhere much, when his son stepped up and tried to tell T not to cry. When that didn't work, he handed her his precious red jeep. The same child who had torn away most toys T had played with all day. And the same jeep which anybody else in the world only touches at their own peril.
And the next morning, I turned on this song, my current favourite, and suddenly The Bhablet bounds up to me, pulls me out of the chair and starts to dance, indicating I should dance with him. I don't know what it takes to woo you, but I'll confess I was a gooey mess.
So, when Dipali and Asha pass on a most undeserved award -- well, I've never been called nice, you know -- I had to write of the nicest things I could think of.
It's nice, being Bhablet ki ma. Happy Mother's Day to you, too.
Forgot to pass on the love. According to the creator of the award (or Asha, whichever way you like it) "This award will be awarded to those that are just nice people , good
blog friends and those that inspire good feelings and inspiration! Those that
care about others that are there to lend support or those that are just a
positive influence in our blogging world!"
So I think this award should be passed on to Maggie, Gauri, Sunita and Mona. Who are all, (with the possible exception of Mags) always very nice people indeed. And Mags, she's so naughty she's nice. And Dipali, I'm tossing the badge back at you, too.