Gazillion apologies, Eric Carle and Elieen Christelow. I understand that you both are not related by any means, but my daughter attempts to do so. In her own imaginative world.

These last few months, D has been insisting on starting the book with Who wrote this book and ending with Where Aunty/Uncle lives , Why he/she wrote this book?. After having followed the new rule set diligently for some time now, this curious little girl now remembers the authors of some of her favorite books. Eric Carle, Elieen Christelow and Nancy Carlson top her chart due to repeated readings of these books.
The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle
The Mixed Up Chameleon by Eric Carle
Five Little Monkeys series by Elieen Christelow
I Like Me series by Nancy Carlson

It has been a while we returned these books to the library. Nevertheless, once in a while we refresh our memories pretending the book is in front of us. I read the book title and she tells the author. Sometimes she decides to say the title and asks me who wrote it. Sometime after returning these books, we stopped doing that. Few days back, we started again.

She forgot the author of Five Little Monkeys, rather couldn’t remember the full name. She was mumbling a combination of Elieen Christelow and Nancy Carlson. And wouldn’t let me help her either. Very precise that I should not tell!! Poor thing, after few minutes she got irritated that she couldn’t remember. So I gave her a hint and she got it.

But, this one can’t let go of a situation without spinning it to her advantage. So there she goes - I am going to mix Elieen Christelow and Eric Carle in a bowl like dar dar. Of course with that wicked grin of hers. Only this time, I gave her company.

* * * * * *
On a whole different context, put my car up for sale today. Within an hour, this Chinese dude walks in, takes a look at the car, test drives it and hands over the cash advance. We were so not expecting the transaction to happen this quick and were not prepared with what-to-do-next, in terms of paper work, signing a contract for as-is sale and so on.
But, this episode has left me with an extreme overwhelming feel. I never realized I had any sort of attachment with my car, until today. I had not felt any emotion when we sold our house couple of years back. I signed the papers without a second thought. But car? Why? Strange!

! E-Ticket in hand ! ! Household sale bohni this Saturday !

No matter from which angle I look at it, zoom in, zoom out, flip or rotate. It speaks out loud, it is very much a non-refundable, non-transferable ONE-WAY ticket! Don’t get me wrong, I am super excited and looking forward to the move, to the new beginning. But still, there is a hidden angst to let go. It’s that feeling of realness, the sense of no turning back. It’s happening! It’s really happening!!

It’s such an experience to watch my daughter go through this process and to see her interpretation of the move at various stages. I don’t think the scope of moving-to-India has registered to her yet. She was a year old when we made our last trip. She hardly remembers anything from then. Few east coast trips after that have led her to the understanding that we will be back home in few days.

We started the selling process this past weekend. We moved some furnitures downstairs, close to the entrance, just to save the lookers from coming deep inside the house. My daughter asks the question, just as anticipated. Why mumma? Mumma is a good story teller, she can churn answers even in sleep. But to give an answer that is convincing in the first go, and one that does not provoke further questions is a whole different ball game. This time she was prepared and had rehearsed the answer. D, we can only take some suitcases in the plane. Plane does not have space for big items and furnitures. Anything that won’t fit into the suitcases has to be given away. She seemed a bit alarmed and says - Only table, chair, bed, shelf? Right mumma? Not my toys and my bo-oo-oks? You are right beta, I tell her.

So, this American dude walks in to take a look at the dresser I advertised on craigslist. In spite of detailing every possible dimension with pictures in the advertisement, he walks in, takes a look and says its too narrow for his room. What can I say, in that one hour that the empty dresser had been lying downstairs, D had managed to sneak in some of her toys. Maybe the dude got ticked off. My little one who had been observing all along pops with yet another question Why Uncle did not take? He did not like it beta. Another uncle will be here in few minutes, he might take it. Okay, I tell her.
This monster screams at the top of her voice at this man, who is now few feet away - Why are you not taking it? We are going to India. This will not fit into our plane!! Then I cannot even go to India! It is amazing to see how these little minds work and how they connect the dots. Furniture not selling + No space in plane == Cannot go to India.

Shortly another person walked in, loved the dresser, paid the list price and took it. To which D exclaims with extreme happiness and relief This uncle was good uncle. That man was bad boy!

And thus happened the bohni on Saturday.

That very same afternoon, a family with 2 kids came by to pick up the guest twin captain’s bed. While the lady’s husband was busy dismantling the bed to be loaded into his van, the resident chatterbox[Yes, I have lost the title to my daughter] strikes a conversation with the lady. First she asks her name. Then she tells her - You are taking my bed because the boys don’t have any bed to sleep on?
My face was worth a photo shoot, I tell ya.

This past week or so, no soul on the street has been spared from the information that we are moving to India. We had a chat, me and the daughter.
Me: D, you should not tell everybody that we going to India.
D: Why mumma?
Me: Because, some things we can only tell to friends. Mummy and papa’s friends are those uncles and Aunties that come inside our house, talk to papa and mummy for a long time. Other people you see on the street, say hi and smile, are strangers. Should not tell anything to them beyond Hi. Especially when mummy and papa are not around.
D: Oh! You are right mumma! I can tell the Aunty who took my bed. She was inside the house and talking to mummy and paapa for a very long time, right mumma!!

Lesson learned! Things you don’t want the whole world to know, keep it low-key in the house. Contain the excitement to self and spare the little bees from serious calculation of what to say and what not to say!

The mother, in a very casual conversation, ends up telling the daughter there are mosquitoes in India. Daughter is excited about going to India, to meet her cousins and all. But not very excited to meet the bugs one on one. She is constantly trying to find a suitable solution..

Daughter: Mumma, but I don’t like mosquitoes.
Mother: hmph.. Neither do I. They are usually outside the house. They won’t come in if you keep the house closed. And the surroundings clean. B bhaiyya, K didi are there na beta. They are not bothered. You’ll have fun there.

Few hours later..
Daughter: Mumma, I have an idea. How about we take a super small, teeny weeny airplane. We will go inside the house in the closed airplane, and lock the house. When we want to come out, we can get inside the airplane, go where ever we want and then come inside the house in the same airplane. Yes, mumma? Then the mosquitoes cannot ever ever ever ever bite me.

**********

Papa goes hiking Sunday early mornings with a bunch of uncles. Daughter has been wanting to hike as well. Papa keeps telling her she is too young to go for that long. One such Sunday morning, she wakes up, finds papa has gone hiking and..
Daughter: Mumma, papa is walking on the mountain. Are you sure he is ok and will not fall down?
Mother: Yes betu. Am sure he won’t.
Daughter: Yesterday, papa was telling me, when I will be big girl, then he can come with me. Then I can help him climb and make sure he won’t fall!!
I told you, she’s a true Californian!!

**********

Papa and daughter are happily munching away the said almonds to glory. Mother has no clue they are out of almonds and the last handful has been split into two, after being subjected to negotiation. Both papa and daughter are eating and reading and lost in their thoughtland. The mother passes by and eats few from the daughters bowl. Daughter snaps out of her thoughtland and bawls It’s not even fair! Why you don’t eat from his bowl. Why you always eat from my’s[mine]! That’s why I am not healthy.
Mother: Who told you are not healthy? My daughter is such a good kid, eats well, sleeps well..
Daughter: Nooo.. That’s why Dr. J put shots for me. Second Aunty poked me. So much harder, you don’t even know.
( Referring to the typhoid shot she got a few days back.. )

**********

Mother is trying to finish up Sunday chores while sipping chai. Daughter is happily making shapes with play dough.
Mother: Hey, its almost 5. Shall I get you some milk?
Daughter: Sure, mumma! I would love to drink!!

**********

Daughter eats capsicums because her mother has told her they are rich in anti oxidants. They are good for health. Daughter’s only worry right now is the baby sister growing taller than her. So bring on everything that has anything to do with good-for-health.
In the same context..
Daughter gets hold of a packet full of banana chips. Both the girls are happily slurping on them. The mother caught a glimpse, but she let go, telling to herself - It’s okay once in a while. She couldn’t resist when the pack was half empty within matter of minutes..
Mother: D, you had enough. Tummy will hurt if you eat more.
Daughter: Look Mumma! These are banana’s. Fruit.. They are very healthy. My teacher said tummy don’t hurt when you eat fruits.
Mother: D, these are fried in oil, okay. It’s okay to eat a little bit once in a while. You have eaten enough. Put that pack back in the shelf.
Daughter: There is no oil, mumma! Look at it. These are bananas. You don’t understand!!! Come baby, lets eat.. banana fruit..

**********

It feels like one fine day she woke up with these one liner additions to her dictionary..
Sure! I would love to.
It’s not even fair.
I can help you.
I have an idea.
Let’s do that, what are you waiting for.
How about that.
You don’t understand.
This is what I mean.
My teacher said.

We often stop by the park on the way back from D’s school. The kids enjoy and it’s a lot easier to get the evening fruit down their throat. D is happily running around, Dlittle walks cluelessly here and there, looking out for anything interesting on the ground that can make way to the taste buds, if only the mother let it be.


Amongst few kids that were present in the park that day, there was this hindi speaking family. The mother, father, a boy and a girl. The boy was in the 7 - 10 age group and the girl was probably 4 - 5 years old. D has a liking for older kids, I think most kids of her age do. She is constantly watching these kids and simulating them. As soon as these siblings were done with the monkey bars, she ran towards them. I am sitting right behind her feeding Dlittle some yogurt. In just about a minute, the siblings come right back to the monkey bars, the boy on one side, the girl on the other and squeeze D from both ends. This is one of those small monkey bars for younger kids. About 2 feet long and 4 feet high. I am glancing, tempted to walk up there to lecture. The kids parents are watching too, but did not utter a single word. D wiggles this side and that side for few seconds and walks towards me with a frown. I am furious by now. More than those kids, at their parents and at D.
I sat her down, stopped feeding Dlittle and had a chat. I told her that next time someone barges into you like this, you tell them politely - I am not done yet. Please wait for your turn. I told it loud enough for the kids and their parents to hear me. It is so unlike me, only I know how much guts I had to gather. To speak out loud enough, to be audible to the parents and the sibling. But, I had to do it. I don’t believe in teaching my kids anything, that I am not willing to do/learn myself. D replies - Mumma, but that bhaiyya is too big and he was pushing me harder. He is a bad boy. She had a point. There isn’t much you can do when a 7 year old and a 4 year old are pushing you from both ends. After some thought I told her, You are right that he is a big boy. But, if you had told them it’s your turn, they might have walked out. You did not even talk. Tell politely once. If they don’t go away, look into their eyes and tell a little louder. If they still push you after that, you walk out. Deal?. Yes Mumma, she says in a pretty stern voice, making me all proud. I could feel from her voice and her gesture that she felt powerful. As though she knew what she had to do the next time. All this while, the siblings are still playing and parents are happily cheering them as though nothing had happened.


I am not complaining. This is real world. We can mold ourselves to the best we believe in, but we cannot expect everyone around us to do the same. To be nice. Nice and humble are very relative terms, it depends on one’s threshold, I would think. Anyways, won’t digress. My kids need to learn to deal with different kinds of people around. We cannot alway provide them with a protective sphere to live in. Letting them deal with situations like these by themselves with a little help boosts their self confidence. I will wait and watch what she does the next time around..

Who other than my 3 year old would claim that title? I am not gloating when I say this, let’s just say I have come to terms with her obsession towards pink and princess. With the hope that it’s a passing phase and there is light at the end of the tunnel.


The day before yesterday, we had stopped at the traffic light waiting for the green signal. There was a truck in front of us carrying shovels, buckets, rakes and such kinds. Seemed like the shovel was not fastened to anything, and I spoke out loud what a disaster it would be if that shovel would fall out while the truck was moving at high speed.
Which triggered this conversation :

D: Mumma, why are you scolding that truck uncle?
Me: hmm.. Not scolding betu, I was just saying that uncle needs to tie the shovel to the truck, otherwise it can fall out of the truck and hurt someone.
D: Oh. Why that uncle has lot of shovel’s in his truck?
Me: Maybe he is a gardener.
D: Gar-de-ner?
Me: Gardener is one who keeps the garden clean, plants flowers, mowe’s the lawn…
D: I want to be a gardener.
Me: That’s very nice. Hey, we could get some plants in the evening?
D: No. Maybe I want to be princess.

Ah! There it comes again! Not once has she defaulted on wanting to be a princess when she grows up. Many a times, I have attempted to probe her further as to what intrigues her. More than her fascination towards anything pink and princess, her reasoning behind the likeness is what gives me chills. Pretty dress, Pretty crown, PRETTY hair and P.R.E.T.T.Y? necklace!!

D is one of those kids who won’t accept anything for an answer and would in fact get frustrated if not convinced. The other day she asked me to slide with her in the park. I told her this park play structure is for kids. To which, she asks where it says so. Matter of fact I read aloud the wordings on the board, 5 To 12 years only! Thankfully, there were kid like stencils next the message. Am not sure she understood I am older than a 12 year old, but the kid’s drawing’s convinced her anyways. She justifies to herself saying, Mommy cannot slide because mommy is too heavy and the slide will break.

Coming back to the conversation we were having, UTBT’s post on princess flashed and I thought I had something to say. You know, this blog addiction does serve some purpose after all.


I continue, D, the princess you see in these books are pretend princess. Like the red uncle in The Incredibles story. Like Boo and the Monster. She says Oh! And I continue.
D, long long time ago there used to be kings and queens and princess. Not like pretend disneyland princess. But real Aunty’s and Uncle’s like mumma and paapa. There was this one Aunty, Jhaansi Rani Lakshmi Bai, who fought… She cuts me off and says I don’t like Raani, yucky Raani.
It wasn’t the right time for the introduction, I guessed. However, that does not imply I give up easily. I continue. The disney pretend princess are in books and TV only, D. [Thanking God we don't live in the UK]. Now-a-days, we have President’s and Prime Minister’s. You remember, mummy told you about Bush Uncle and Manmohan Singh Uncle? The president of America and the prime minister of India? You could become the President when you grow up? Right?
She sure did not like it a bit and gives a very clear and definitive answer. No, that’s not funny. I don’t want to be president. I don’t like George Bush, I don’t like Manmohan Singh. I want to be princess only. P.R.E.T.T.Y P.I.N.K Princess.

She frowns and goes silent for few minutes and then comes up with a brilliant answer to meet both ends.
Mumma, I can be Kanpur princess, but. Yes mumma? Right?

Seeing the tension on her little innocent face, I did give up at this point. Though this is something I will definitely bring back in due course of time.


Coming to the more concerning pretty part, I think it is more than a necessity to FEEL pretty and beautiful. It changes the body language, the confidence with which you carry yourself and boosts self esteem. The trick is to persuade a three year old that she is pretty and beautiful, irrespective of skin color, no matter what she is wearing and how her hair is done. To intelligently put forward the fine line between feeling pretty and looking pretty. Not just with herself, but also with others around. To respect others for what they are, just the way they are. In many cases, with confidence, also comes arrogance. I would be one very sad mother if I raised an arrogant child. I don’t want her to be all saintly, but not over confident to the extent of carrying the burden of arrogance with it. Not to digress.

Reminds me of this book - The Ugly Pumpkin we read long back. This book is about a pumpkin that keeps thinking his ugliness is the cause for not being picked up, finally realises he is a gourd and not a pumpkin. And that he wasn’t really ugly, he just did not fit in to the pumpkin’s specification.

a.k.a. The Bald and the Beautiful!!

D hands me this paper and says, I drew my mommy, my daddy, D and Dlittle.
Wow! I said. I was really impressed the way she put 2 eyes, 1 nose, 1 mouth etc. okay, some of them don’t have hands, couple of them are missing a nose. But hey, she is 3 years old, and she got me right!! The big one on the top - that’s me!!

After analysing the picture some more, I asked her about the line that crossed all our bodies.
She says, Mumma, we are all swinging in the swing.

What a smartie, I thought.
How sweet, I said. Just then I noticed the head portion and asked Hey D, where is mumma’s hair ?
Oh, she said and reached out to the paper as though she was going to cover my head with orange colored hair. Turned right back and said, but you are mottai boss . [A tamil slang for bald headed men/woman]

And giggles like there is no tomorrow!!
Just you wait girl, when you will have to introduce your mottai-boss mom to your friends! Ah ha!

About a month back we made a trip to Solvang[Santa Barbara], a vacation in the true sense. All we did was relax, eat, window shop in the beautiful danish style village downtown, sight seeing and partying all night after getting the kids to sleep.

We were all of 4 families, with 2 kids each and one adult who is here on a business trip. This one temporarily-bachelor adult is the twin brother of another person V. This conversation is the after effect of the trip. About a week after the trip.

I ask her, D, sometimes you call me Mummy, sometimes Mommy, sometimes Mumma. Could you pick one, please. Any one that you like?
Mumma, mumma replies D and this unintended conversation starts.

D: Maybe I can call you Aunty. [Says with a wicked grin]
Me: That’s not funny D. I am your Mumma. I am Aunty for other kids, not you. Okay?
D: But R’s mommy is N Aunty, A’s Mommy is R Aunty. Right mumma?
Me: Yeah…
D: So you are R Aunty. [Laughs again]
Me: Yes, I am R Aunty. But for other kids. For you, I am mommy. Girl, you know that!
[Using this opportunity to see if she can relate the kids and their parents. With this set of friends, we almost always meet as a set. D has seen them all together, somehow she knows who is who' mommy but is confused about the dad's ]
D: R’s mommy is X and R’s papa is Y.
Me: Who is A’s mommy and papa.
D: X.. hmm.. I don’t know. Maybe Y..
And so on…
It was this twin brother families turn. So I ask, Who is P’s mommy and papa?
[Says mommy correctly and struggles with papa. Gets it after a starting hint.
And then suddenly she gets a bit excited.. ]

D: Mumma, you know what? There are 2 V uncles. One V uncle has glasses and his hair is funny funny like this.
[Funky hair with gel and all that... People returning to India seem to get younger by the day. Desh ki Mitti, I tell you!!]
Me: Oh, V is a twin brother of V. Twins are born at the same time, come out of their mummy’s tummy at the same time and most of the time they look same same.
D: [Pause]. Mumma, P has 2 papa’s. One with a glass and one without a glass. I want 2 papa’s too, Mumma.
Me: [Laughing...] Sweety, I think its time to nap now. We’ll talk when you wake up, okay.
D: Mumma, please mumma. I wan’t 2 papa’s. I like to have 2 papa’s. I will be so happy, like 100, if I have 2 papa’s.
[ Yes, our measuring scale is 1 to 100. Not 1 to 10. ]
Me: Na, beta. Your papa loves you very much. Like 100.. We are a happy family with one Mommy and one papa. Lets sleep now.

Someone explain this girl!!!!! I am just glad she did not remember a thing when she woke up, which is so unlike her.
I wonder if she is too young to understand the concept of twins. Should pick up books on this topic in the next library visit.

Mumma, said my 3 year old yesterday evening.
I was telling her that she needs to eat well in order to be strong and healthy. She asks - Then I can have big strong muscles?[Thanks to the gym class in her school. That's material for a whole new post] Sure, yes. Yes beta, muskles[I said it the way some of us pronounce sk(c)hedule. She started laughing and said - You saying it wrong wrong mumma, its not muskle, its muscle. A little later, I was feeding Dlittle her evening meal. As always, she was fussy refusing to open her mouth. I said, Dlittle, you want muscles like Ddidi or not? c'mon open your mouth now. Right then I turned to D and said, hey, see mumma said it correct this time. Muscle, not muskle. She gives a mature smile and says -You are interesting, mumma. INTERESTING? huh!
Late in the night D was busy playing with some stuff. I was telling LH about the interesting conversation we had in the evening. This elephant ear multi tasker, amidst her playing says - papa, you are interesting too!!
------


One evening I was planning on making stir fry tofu for dinner. D was playing in the kitchen and was curious to know what we were going to eat for dinner. I showed her the tofu pack, opened it in front of her and said. I am going to cut this into pieces, put a little bit of oil in the pan. When the oil is hot, will put tofu pieces in it and do dar dar.[dar dar is the slang for stirring...] A little bit of salt, pepper and lemon, count 100 and it will be all done, ready to eat.. She asks - can you put some shiken in it? Shiken? chicken???? Mumma does not know how to cook that betu. Did you eat it in school? Do you like chicken? Do your school friends bring chicken to school? I asked.
Yes, mumma she says. I told her we are going to eat tofu today. Next time we eat out, she can eat chicken with papa. She grabs the tofu packet from my hands and says - mumma, read it. See it says. Put tofu in pan. Then put shiken. Then do dar dar. Then only it will be yummy. I am dreading the day she is going to say - mumma, can you put some taste in this..
I felt bad that I don’t cook chicken at home. I used to eat meat, long long ago. I think it was 1995, not very sure. I was staying as a paying guest at my friends place. We went to a nearby store to buy meat, they ran out of it. Thats when I saw the butcher catch hold of a chicken that was running around, and you know what happens next. That was the last day I ate meat. I just couldn’t. During the first few years of marriage, I cooked once in a while. But as time went by I couldn’t handle even the smell and sight of raw meat. I am totally ok with seeing it in cooked format. And have no qualms of accidentally using the spoon that touched the vessel containing chicken Or anything of that sort. But the sight of raw meat just makes me uneasy.
There sure lies a challenge ahead of me. Since the LH eats meat, I am sure D will ask for it sooner or later. And I have absolutely no issues with her eating. The fuss is to cook at home. At the same time, I don’t want to deprive her of home cooked food. A friend had suggested to get pre-cooked nuggets. Will see, will rethink when she shows more genuine interest.

——


On a whole different and un-related note, anyone following the primary elections here? Its just getting more and more interesting. Mitt Romney suspending his campaign with the claim of uniting the party, Hillary clinton pulling money out of her own pocket to fund the campaign. Its getting better and betterer.

Papa enters the house in the evening.
Papa: Where’s my daughter?
D : Hiding! Here papa, in the kitchen.
Papa: Oh. I found you. My little daughter..
[After some time]…
Papa: How was your day?
D : What?
Papa: How was your day in school. What did you do in school? Had fun?
D : Yes papa, I had fun. Lot of. I pushed H in the bathroom and pinched A.
Papa: huh? What did you just say?
D : Which school did you go? How was your day in your school?
Papa: hmm.. My school. It was good. I went to meet Mr. X and gave a presentation of our company product.
hey, why are you changing topic, smarty? What did you say you did in school?
D : What you saying papa?

**********

D: Mumma, can you do me a favorite?
Me: huh? Favorite. Oh Favor, sure beta, bolo.
D: Not favor, favorite. Look at my mouth. FA-VO-RITE. Like this only you should say. okaiy mumma.

**********

D: boda guda shoda [some gibberish talks..]
Me: Whats that?
D: When I was small girl, then I used to talk like this only mumma.
Me: Oh, I see.
D: Yes, mumma. Very funny.

**********
Me: D, how long is it taking for you to finish half an apple.
D: But its not yummy. I can eat Parlor G [Parle G] maybe, maybe chips. Yes, mumma?
Me: Look, if you eat healthy food, you will become tall, tall like papa. If you eat junk food then you’ll become short like Dlittle baby. Its up to you, but then if you can’t reach the top of the book shelf, don’t feel bad, ok ?
D: [Munches on the apple a little more, then climbs on the weighing machine]. Mumma, look how tall AM ARE.
Me: Look at you. wow!
[Yes, the weighing machine tells her how tall. I tried explaining, no success yet].


Another related incident…
Me and Papa: [Munching on chips..]
D: Mumma, you eating junk food? You want to become small baby?
Me: hmm.. uh.. hmm.. Sometimes.. once in a while.. you can eat…
Ah ha! Oh, mummy is already tall na betu, thats why I can eat a little. When you will become as tall, then you can eat maybe. yeah?
D: No mumma, you are short tall, papa is big tall. Only papa can eat, you cannot eat, ok mumma.
Me: [Hiding my face..]
**********
First thing when we wake up in the morning, we usually wish each others a Good morning and then..
Papa: Everyone had a good sleep?
Me: nahi yaar. This chutki keeps walking up in the night. I had a disturbed sleep.
Papa: Yeah right! I could hear you snore even after shutting my ears with cotton balls.
Me: Hey, lets get the record straight. I DON’T snore, ok.. I do but only when I am very very tired. ok.. I am tired all the time.. Whatever! look at my eyes, you see these dark circles under the eye, they are the proof that I don’t get enough sleep. Everything has become a joke for you.
D: I did not sleep well, mumma. I am very tired. Look at my eyes, look at. Red.
Papa: [Laughs..]
D: Its not funny, papa.
Note to self: Watch out for the little monster before uttering anything.
**********

Conversation with D this morning:

[D is sitting in the living room and I am in the kitchen fixing breakfast]

D: Grainy.
Me: [Fixing breakfast]
D: GRAINY!
Me: [Still fixing breakfast]
D: Mummy!
Me: Yes, beta. I am getting your breakfast in a minute.
[D walks into the kitchen]
D: Grainy[This time in a softer tone].
Me: What is Grainy betu?
D: Grain nee. You only Grain nee.
Me: What are you saying? Mummy cannot understand.
D: Grain nee. Grain nee. Grain nee. Your hair is white, look at, this side.

Huh? Granny? I need to hit the parlor!

[Edited: Writing this post got me thinking, where did she learn to associate white hair with Granny? ]

T(amil)(H)indi
Me and H come from the North of India, but my parents settled in the South of India when I was a toddler. Which translates to me singing ‘ennadi muniyamma un kannule maaiye’. Yes, I can speak that good Tamil!

H does not speak or understand Tamil, neither does my father. So, my Tamil is restricted to friends and sissy(she married a South Indian, speaks Tamil at home), sporadically with brother and mom.

When D turned one, we visited Naani. Naani lovingly calls her ‘raaja kutti’(chota raaja), kutti moni(chote moni) and such kind. H who has tuned himself to selective hearing, turns around and gives a shabby smile. A little later when naani is not around, he mumbles I know your mom loves D. And she has all the right in the world to call her anything she feels like. But “KUTTI” (DOG) is too much?

How about H(indi)(E)inglish?
We had just moved into this house which has 2 floors with an obvious stairs to go upstairs. I am downstairs preparing dinner in the kitchen when I hear a thud sound. I run out to find D sitting below the staircase and crying. I hug my sweetie, after a bit of consoling ask her what had happened.
I pat fall down like dhum and (h)urt my brain.
I say to her If you walk carefully, you wont fall down.
But I was tutooing(thod, breaking) and phading(tearing) the paper, papa gave me pitta(pitayi), thats why I was running fast fast.

Ready for some D(aughter)(H)inglish?
Papa goes to office on a weekend and D as always is ready with her shoes and jacket. Papa convinces D that he has a meeting with a customer and will be back home soon. Just at that moment, I was preparing custard to make fruit salad that night. To distract D, I tempt her to come into the kitchen to see how mummy is making the custard. H tells D that D can watch mummy making the custard, by that time he will finish his meeting and then papa and D an go to park. custard was made and put into the fridge for cooling. Night time came and I had forgotten all about it, blame it on post-partum harmones.

D: ‘Papa, I want customer’.
Papa: beta, meeting got over in the afternoon and customer went to his house.
D: But, I want customer, Papa.
Papa: [Thinks she probably thought customer was a toy??]. customer Uncle has gone to his house.
D: No papa. Not that. I want c-u-s-t o m-e-r. (That’s how we teach D to pronounce large words by splitting them into smaller bits).
Papa: ok, D. Lets ask Mummy. Where is mummy?
D: Mummy is upstairs papa. [Starting to whine]. I want my customer. Mummy said she will give after I finish mummum. come, I will show u.
She asks him to open the fridge and points to the bowl of custard.