Coming Clean

Lately, Pranav has been helping me load clothes into the washer, turn it on, and then unload them when they're done. He stands in front of the washing machine, and becomes a watching machine, staring in fascination at the clothes spinning around.

The other day, the washer stopped mid-cycle. There was an error code on its display. I dug out the manual, and looked up the error code. It said little or no water in the inlet pipe.

I stood thinking, not really wanting to call the appliance service, not after the fridge incident (that's another story).

I looked at the inlet pipe to see if there was obvious damage. I followed it to the wall, and saw that it was screwed into the faucet securely. Then I looked at the knob above the faucet.

"Pranav", I said to the little guy who was watching me with curiosity. "Did you touch this knob?".

He grinned wide, as he always does when he knows the answer well. "Yeeeees!", he said happily.

"When?", I said.

"Yesterday!", he said.

"And what did you do with it?"

"I spinned it!"

Ask and ye shall know.

So I "spinned" it back so that the water to the washer was turned on again, and the the washer went on with its job without further complaint.

My Little Yes Man

I had him well trained, until a few weeks ago, to agree with everything that I said.

For instance, I would be talking to Summy or Kiran, and I would turn to Pranav, and say, "Right, Pranav?", and he would say, "Right, Amma."

A few weeks ago, I was telling Summy something, and said, "Right, Pranav?". He looked mischievous and said, "Left, Amma."

Sigh. It had been really nice to have a pint sized person who backed up all that I said.

Now not only has that stopped, but he is telling me what to say. Today, he toddled up to me while mumbling an incoherent question. When he got close, he told me, "Say yes!".

"What to?", I said.

"Just say yes, Amma."

"But what was the question?"

He looked at me like he couldn't see why the question would be relevant. Here he was, simplifying things for me by providing all the answers, and I was just wasting time.

"Can I have a balloon?", he says.

Relieved, I say, "Of course!"

After thinking, I realized that though this seems like an attempt to influence me, it was not.

He already knew that I would not object to his playing with a balloon. So he was not really trying to get me to say yes, but rather, was telling me what he already knew that I would say.

I know this because he sometimes says things like, "Can I pour this glass of water on the floor? Say no."

So he could have just bypassed me and played with his balloon, but he still wants to follow procedure: ask permission, then proceed. So he comes to me, more as a ritual, than on a mission.

This is Pranav all over.

No Distractions

Today he was throwing a tantrum about pouring juice into a cup "all by himself", when I distracted him by making jokes, tickling him, and so on.

He couldn't help laughing, but he suddenly remembered his tantrum and said, "Don't cheer up me, Amma."

Gross Misunderstanding

One day, we were in the backseat of the car, and I was busy talking to Summy. Pranav was busy picking pieces of lint and fluff off the seat.

He interrupted to point a small something on his finger at me, and said, "What's this, Amma?".

I said, "Oh, that must be lint, Pranav."

"Here, take it.", he said.

"Just drop it, it's okay", I said.

"Take it.", he insisted.

After he rubbed his finger onto my palm, I looked at my hand, and said, "Where did you get it?".

He answered, "In my nose."

I can still hear Summy squealing "Gross!".

Do Not Say A Word

Pranav was telling me one of his stories, and I kept saying, "Uh huh", or "Okay", now and then.

He paused, and looked at me. "Don't talk, Amma."

"Okay, Pranav", I said.

"I am talking.", he said.

"Okay", I said.

"Don't say okay."

"Mmmmm."

"Don't say Mmmmm."

So I stared at him quietly. He stared back and grinned one of his mischievous grins.

More Sleep Talk

I wouldn't have believed that a two year old would talk this much in his sleep, but I hear him everyday. And it's not unintelligible mumbling, like adults usually do.

Yesterday: "There was one cat outchide; There were two cats outchide; There were three cats outchide; There were four cats outchide;", like he was reciting a book.

Maybe he wakes up a little, talks without opening his eyes, and then falls back asleep.

Welcoming Summy Home

When Summy came home from school this afternoon, her first words were, "Get off the back of that sofa, Pranav. You'll fall down and get a bad boo boo." He ignored her, and she kept telling him to get off.

Finally, he smiled at her and said, "Hi, Akka. Are you home?"

She smiled too, and said, "Hi, Pranav!"

Then she came to me, telling me about her day. Earlier, he would try to get my attention back to him by hanging onto my legs, or whining about something. But today he was direct - he put his outstretched hands on her, and said, "No, Akka! I talk Amma!"

We were both surprised ( and Summy not very pleased) and stared at him in silence. One he got my attention, he actually had nothing to say, so he giggled and ran away back to his Play-Doh.

Oh, Brother!

Pranav has grown stubborn and insists that whatever he says is right. He doesn't like to be corrected.

If he says, "P is for monkey", and I say, "M is for monkey", he insists, "No, P is for Monkey", and repeats it several times, looking mischievously defiant.

The other day, he told me, "You are my brother, Amma.", and before I could deny this, he added, " And I am your sister." I was so surprised, that for a while, I didn't know where to begin.

"Pranav, I am your mother...", I started. "NO!", he said, "You are my brother." He repeated this many times so that I would remember it. I gave up.

That night, he suddenly gave me a hug and said, "I love you, brother." My sister sure is crazy, but I love him too.

I'm sure that all of this comes from Summy trying to explain these relationships to him. Her efforts paid off, he's been calling her "brother" too.

Grime Time

Today Pranav started his afternoon by crawling around on the ground outside our apartments, and rubbing his hands all over it.

When his hands were black to his satisfaction, he found he was thirsty and he asked for a juice box. After a few sips, he wasn't so thirsty anymore, and he squirted juice out of the box all over himself.

He wiped his sticky black hands on his favorite jeans, and proceeded to the playground. There, his sticky shoes filled with sand (so that's why they're called "sand"als?) annoyed him, and he threw them off. He climbed on the equipment and had fun. Soon, his feet matched his hands in blackness.

Then we moved on to the cafe where I fed him French fries. There he dipped his hands into the ketchup, and then into his glass of water.

Finally we came home, and by this time he was more a ball of dirt than a little boy. He left a trail of sand wherever he went. I scrubbed him down from matted hair to blackened toes, and he came out of the bath looking like a little angel, and smelling sweet.

Immediately, he set to work again, "eating" a bowl of yogurt, and in the process, getting it on his hands, hair, and eventually, on his tummy, his legs, his feet, his chair, and the floor, as he toppled his bowl over.

What can I say? I do my job, he does his.

He is an Girl!

Picks up two pencils, holds them on either side of his head like pony tails, and says, "I am an girl, Amma!".

Sleep talk and Sweet Talk

He keeps talking through the night. I usually don't remember what he said, though I remember it being funny at the time.

Here are a few of the lines that he said out of the blue last night:

"No, that's an Kangaroo!"

"That one is an watermelon."

"The parrot is okay, Amma."

What kangaroo? What watermelon? What parrot?

On a different topic, Pranav has me talking like him now.

"Do you want an banana, Pranav?"

"Please bring me an spoon, Summy."

"Should we stay inchide, or go outchide now?"

"No, not uptairs, Pranav, we are going downtairs."

Stalling tactics

As Pranav is getting smarter, bedtime keeps slipping farther each day. Once he's in bed, he has a lot to say. For example:

"I don't want to sleep in the bed, Amma."

"Can I sleep on Akka's bed, Amma?"

"Can I play with Akka, Amma?"

"I am thirsty, Amma. Can I drink some water?"

And today, he was almost asleep when he suddenly sat up and said: "I forgot to eat rice, Amma." Of course he has me figured out, and knows what will get me ( and him) out of bed. He had eaten spaghetti for dinner, but what if that hadn't filled him up? But after eating a couple of spoonfuls of rice, he said he was done and he wanted to play.

Even Summy, who used to be the bedtime stalling queen, tries to get him into bed earlier, so that she can sleep peacefully. The stalling queen is growing up, has school, hobbies, responsibilities, and is starting to understand the value of sleep (It's not like she can wake up at eight, and settle down in just a diaper, to watch Dora with a nice warm cup of Horlicks, like some in the house do. She has school to go to, a bus to catch!)

Why does Pranav dislike going to bed so much? Maybe I should ask his mom, who is still up at 2 am, writing and complaining about Pranav not sleeping early enough.

Gabool!

After Pranav's bath this morning, I cuddled the sweet clean bundle wrapped up in a towel, while telling him how cute and huggable he was.

After I put him down, he toddled around saying "Gabool! Gabool!".

"What's Gabool?", I asked him, and he laughed and said, "Gabool!".

"Where is this Gabool?", I said. He giggled and pointed to himself.

Then I realized what he had heard me say: "Huggable" had become "Gabool" :)

He is an Boy!

Pranav, now that he's all of 23 months old, is trying to be grammatically correct.

"Me do it." has disappeared, and has been replaced with "I'll do it."

He makes complex sentences that do not make complete sense, like: "Daddy has an umbrella, but it's raining outchide (outside)."

He hasn't figured out the difference between "what" and "who" yet, though. He points to people and says, "What is that, Amma?", when he feels friendly and curious. (a couple of embarrassing times, I've pretended that he was pointing to and talking about something else: "That? Oh, that's a tree, Pranav.")

He did notice that we say "an" instead of "a" sometimes, as in "an ant". So now he's replaced all "a"s with "an"s.

Tonight, in bed, he waved his finger around in a circle, and said, "Look at this, Amma. What is this?" when I ignored him, he answered himself, "It's an shircle, Amma."

Then he thought for a while, and informed me, "I am an boy, Amma." At that, I had to give him a kiss.

Names

Pranav's been learning our names.

"Nanna's name is Kiran." This one he's got right.

"Amma's name is Amma." He can't imagine that I could have another name.

"Sameera's name is Akka." This one is a little mixed up, but still kind of close.

"Pranav's name is Pranav." This we can't argue with.

Talking

Politest (and longest) sentence ever said:

"Can I have a drink of water in a cup, please, Amma?"

Longest conversation with me (during a long car ride):

"Where is the whale, Amma?" (out of the blue)
"In the ocean."
"Where is the dolphin, Amma?"
"In the ocean."
"Where is the whale, Amma?"
"In the ocean."
"Where is the dolphin, Amma?"
"In the ocean."
"Where is the whale, Amma?"
........... (and on and on, all the way until we got home.)

Most flattering conversation:


"I like Akka's hair, Amma."
"Yes, Pranav."
"Do you like Akka's hair too?"
"Yes, she has nice hair."
"You have nice hair, Amma."
"Thank you, Dinky. You have nice hair too."
"Pretty hair, Amma." (with both hands rubbing my head).

 If he starts a sentence and cannot finish it, he will start over and then start over again, until he gets it right. If I know what he is trying to say and finish it for him, he'll say the whole thing again anyway, indignantly.

Outsmarted

The smarter the kids get, the more scatter-brained I get.

Eight years ago: Summy was learning to sit up, babble, and drool.

Eight years ago: I was an Engineer, working on cutting-edge technology. I was reading, writing, drawing, keeping a home, bringing up a baby, and most importantly: I could speak a sentence without forgetting what I was talking about by the time I got to the middle of it.

Now: Summy is writing poems, drawing, painting, thinking up ideas, singing, dancing, offering me solutions to problems, babysitting, bossing around, swimming, bicycling, roller-skating, reading up a storm, including three Harry Potter books in three weeks.

Now: I am a stay-at-home Engineer with vague memories of cutting edge technology from eight years ago. I stared stupidly when an electronics store salesperson talked to me about micro-SD. When my aunt asked me to save a received call on her mobile phone, I saved it to a wrong name, called a total stranger from her phone (stranger to me, but not to her), hung up on them, deleted her received calls, and then passed on her phone to my 10-year-old nephew to fix. To keep up with the times, I occasionally read a two-week-old newspaper.

One year ago: Pranav was learning to sit up, babble, and drool.

One year ago: I was handling the transition of moving to India, taking care of baby, helping Summy with new school and syllabus, multi-tasking, and most importantly: remembering when I had last taken a shower.

Now: Pranav is talking in sentences in two languages. ("That's my pillow, Amma. Don't touch it.") He is singing the alphabet song, reading letters and making their sounds. He is counting in several languages - though the order doesn't matter, and a few numbers are left out along the way. He is singing words to several songs, and replacing lyrics with his own when he feels like it. ("Twinkle, Twinkle, Panda Bear"). He has taken over my phone. He knows and names many colors, shapes, animals, and things. He is running, and climbing impossible things. He has an amazing memory - hears a word or a song once and recalls it a week later.

Of course he has an amazing memory, because he took my memory too. Because, now: Everyday I ask   Summy, "What date is it?" And sometimes, "What month?" 

Yesterday, it suddenly occurred to me that I could really use a labelmaker (so I wouldn't make Upma with the Idli Ravva again, or Rasam with the Pau Bhaji Masala). I wished I had asked Kiran, who is in the US on a business trip, to get me one. "Oh, well", I thought, "I could still ask, he might still have time to buy one." 

So today, on the phone, I was saying, "And if you see a labelmaker,...", when Kiran interrupted: "I bought a labelmaker already." I was stunned. We'd been married for so long that he knew what I wanted before I did! "But how could you know that I wanted a labelmaker?", I asked. "Because you put it on the shopping list you gave me.", he said, surprised.

Now, any ordinary scatterbrain could forget to put a labelmaker on a list. But it takes an extraordinary scatterbrain to remember to put a labelmaker on a list, then forget about it, then think of it again without ever remembering having thought of it before, then regret not having put it on the list, and and then be surprised when it is discovered to be on the list already.

While the kids are learning more, I'm going the opposite way. So if I ever start to babble on this blog, you'll know Summy and Pranav are getting really smart.

Help (un)Wanted

Pranav frequently helps me out when I ask for it. More often though, he helps after I specifically ask him not to.

This evening, I piled freshly washed laundry on the sofa and began folding. I had to stop in the middle of this task to do something else.

Our resident neatnik, Pranav, found this unsightly (in his opinion) mess. He climbed onto the sofa, pulled the unfolded clothes off and stuffed them back into the laundry basket. This wasn't enough. He climbed onto the sofa again, took the folded clothes off and piled them up in the laundry basket.

All this time, I was pleading with him to leave the laundry alone, and he was ignoring me. When he was done, he looked proud of himself. Nobody said the usual "Good Job!" to him. So he said it to himself: "Good Job!", he said, with a smile of satisfaction, and walked away.

A Poem About Me

By Summy:

My Mother

My mother is special

The way you find

is she is very kind.

She makes good

yummy, delicious food.

She calls me sweet

and very neat.

My mom can sing

like a bird can tweet.

I love her all the time

But sometimes she is a lime.

My mother makes the best nest to give

to let me live.

She is the best mother

anyone could have.

I'm helpful when I wash dishes

and she loves to watch fishes.

Bottoms Up

We were lying down comfortably on the sofa, little Dinky and me. He was on my tummy, face down. I asked him, it being a warm, lazy, afternoon, "Would you like to eat some watermelon, Pranavi?".

Normally, he would nod. But with his head resting nicely, I guess he felt too lazy to pick it up and nod it. So he sticks up his little bottom in the air, and wiggles it up and down, twice, to say "Yes".

I bet this one is not in the baby sign language books.