Friday, March 07, 2014
Sunday, March 02, 2014
We have (dash) bones in our vertebral column.
He thinks for a moment, doesn't miss a beat and replies calmly.
We have many bones in our vertebral column.
I would give him full marks for thinking on his feet. You know.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Thursday, February 27, 2014
This video from Huffington Post, shared by kidsstoppress on Facebook.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Sunday, February 16, 2014
The boy entered the kitchen yesterday while Sunday lunch was being prepared. For all my gluttony, I am probably the primary contender for the title of the world's worst cook. I hate cooking with a passion which rivals my hatred for reptiles.
"Whachyure cooking?" he asked. The mutton curry was done, the rice was done, the rotis were done. The salad was done. The vegetable and dal was done. The cook had wiped her hands on her apron and left for the day. All that was left to be done was the bheja fry. The masala was ready, all that needed to be done was fry it all together.
"I'll make it, I'll make it!"
I gladly handed over charge and stood by the side, filing my nails and barking instructions. He managed rather successfully and promptly took a bit of his production to his father for tasting.
"Tell me really, sachi sachi, is tasting nice?" he asked his father.
"It's nice," testified the father, with all sincerity.
The boy strutted around with chest puffed for the better part of the day.
This morning, he wandered into the kitchen again. "Whachyure making?" he asked again.
"Omelette," I replied.
"I will make," he squealed.
All that needed to be chopped, had been chopped. He broke the eggs in, mixed them in, beat them furiously, added in a bit of salt, poured it into the frying pan, let it cook a bit, had to be physically restrained from flipping it over until it was done, and finally took it gently off the pan and into the plate.
"I made fer you brekkfass," he told his pater proudly.
My job here is done. If not Hire-a-goon, he can definitely set up shop as a chef.
Sunday, February 09, 2014
Thursday, February 06, 2014
Wednesday, February 05, 2014
Suddenly, the spouse and I, both of whom were the bee’s knees till a couple of months ago, are now, not good enough.
Read the rest of the post here
I agreed. We sat, on opposite sides of the small table, brows furrowed, playing X and O. He maintained, diligently, a score sheet. I refused to give him easy wins, with the result that my score was five times his. Then he learnt, and began anticipating my moves, blocking my lines, winning more. We played for over an hour. And the next night too, and the night after that. It seems to have become a nightly ritual now, playing nots and crosses. Other children have stories read to them, or read before they sleep. We play nots and crosses. And we wake the dead with victory yells.
Sweet victory for me. I might just push my luck and buy him a chess set now. At the very least, it keeps him in one place. And behaving.
This is the point where I thank all you readers for all the love over all these years, and my mother, and my husband and my family and of course, the NowOfficiallyATween for having provided, selflessly, endless content for this blog. I would also like to thank Blogadda for digging out karmickids from the rubble of neglect and making me view it with new, improved respect.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
It feels a little humiliating to come second place to a phone. Given that I have made a pact with myself to be off the phone, even checking messages, Whatsapp, BBM, Twitter and Facebook when I am home, this comes as a bit of a shocker for me.
Read the rest here
"Mamma, even I want a baby brother."
I gulped. To be honest, visions of a diaper changing, colicky evenings and days spent rushing to pediatricians and occupational and speech therapy flashed in the mind's eye like a bad flashback in a B grade horror movie.
"Why?" I asked, "You seemed perfectly content without a sibling all these years. Now its too late. If I start making a baby now, the baby will be born when you are eleven years old. And I'm not even sure my baby making parts in my stomach are in good working condition anymore, I'll probably have to go to the doctor and take some treatment."
"Okay then," he said, with the air of one who has a solution to everything including the two most pressing problems of the world, world peace and cellulite. "Let us adopt a baby."
A minor uterine contraction happened because I had been very keen to adopt a baby girl, but somehow it didn't come to pass.
"You know, I'm 42, your dad is 44. I think we are too old now to adopt."
"But I want a baby brother.You put the pappa seed in your stomach and get it fertilised." We have our biology and topic of reproduction a little jumbled between pollination and human reproduction but I'm not getting into it here.
"There's no guarantee we will have a baby brother. You could get a baby sister too."
"No, I don want baby sister, baby sisters are boreding."
"You do know that it will be some time before the baby brother will be old enough for you to play with, right?"
"At least four to five years."
"Den I'll be in college. That will be too late Okay. Can I have a dog? Or an Xbox?"
I rest my case. And calm down my panicked uterus.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
This has sent me into constant state of panic because the demand for edible foodstuff is at an all time high and I am very challenged in the kitchen. Consequently, the need to constantly be rolling out food that is filling, nutritionally adequate and yet not junk, fattening, calorific and all such can be quite a challenge.
Read the rest here
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Here's an interview with Payal Shah Karwa, the author of The Bad Touch, a hard hitting book with interviews of survivors (or thrivers as she prefers to call them) of Child Sexual Abuse, which I think should be made mandatory reading for every parent.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Read the rest here