Firsts

• On Monday, Ash got his first raincoat - Mira too - courtesy his dad. Both call it the rainpot.
• On Tuesday, they wore it to school in the pouring rain. And Mira kept donning it at home too after school hours.
• On Wednesday, Ash had his first dental appointment. A rot in the upper canine that we and a couple of dentists we asked had ignored because it is a milk tooth. The latest, however, offered to fill the cavity in a subsequent appointment next week. She didnt want to do it at one go and terrify the boy. And Ash, who had been clamouring to go to the dentist to "paste up the hole in the teeth", did get frightened by all the dental paraphernalia.
• And today, Thursday, both are at home driving the nanny crazy. The heavy rains since yesterday evening was enough reason to bunk school. The skies however cleared up later in the morning, making us regret our decision to keep them at home.
• And tomorrow, Friday, I hope to send them both to school rain or no rain.

Meeting crocs

Little Bean could not make his tryst with St. Andrew's Kirk and the halleluiahs on Sunday since his father decided to take him, and the rest of us, for a jolly ride on the East Coast Road, where Chennai's really good roads are. It was partly meant to enjoy the new car, meant for good roads, and partly to give the kids some entertainment.
Hence we decided to check out the Crocodile Bank. Since it was nearing lunch time by the time we hit the ECR, we looked for the ideal veg restaurant that would have the right fare for Ash.
With the kids clamouring for lunch, we finally drove into the Ideal beach resort rather hesitantly. Two years back, a New Year buffet dinner at another resort's restaurant had left us sick and incapacitated.

But Ideal's restaurant turned out to be good - it did not give us with a bloated feeling and it was tasty to boot, despite V asking for a less oil, no ajinomoto fare. While Ash concentrated on his veg noodles and french fries, we adults had some chicken fried rice on the sly.
We then drove back to watch the crocodiles enjoying their afternoon siestas. They looks like little rocks but the "Keep your hands out" warnings outside some enclosures made us eerily aware that many of those rocky masses had an eye open to lug at unsuspecting human hands on the wired fence.

After watching venom extraction by Irula men at the 'photography prohibited' snake enclosure - which had cobras and vipers and other poisonous snakes safely harboured in earthen pots - we rushed to watch the feeding of a full-size marsh crocodile. The caregiver taunted the giant reptile with chunks of flesh, goading it to move forward to collect its food while the milling crowds outside the enclosure watched in rapt attention. It was huge and probably old and hated the effort.
There were crocs from Africa, Thailand, Australia and Brazil. I found the thin-snouted gharials more interesting - apparently they dont attack except when they are guarding their eggs and chicks. We even watched a gharial swim in a underground aquarium along with turtles.
Ash, however, kept reminding his father that he had to go to church in the evening but the tired parent promised to take him the following week. Anyway the little boy had enough excitement for a day, and kept talking about all the reptiles he saw until he fell asleep.
Thank you Romulus Whitaker. I need to take my boy to the Snake park next.

Little Bean prepares for church

Mira was taken for a haircut today, and thereafter for a bite of chicken. Haircut outings go with perks like chicken and icecream.
Ash, who was preparing for his oil massage and bath, did not make a fuss to go out today. However, when V came home with Mira he got sentimental and told him that we were not taking him anywhere. (That's not true, just yesterday night the whole gang in their night suits had trooped along when V came to pick me up from the workplace late in the night. Ash was lil upset as he wasnt taken to the local provision shop when V stopped to buy some eggs.) And he used that as an excuse to accuse us of being partial.
So V promised him to take him to church tomorrow, hopefully to St. Andrew's Kirk. Last week he had almost promised but did not. The Kirk and the St. George's Cathedral near the US embassy here, coming under the Church of South India, has the service in English, and has a more interactive communion than the Kerala Syrian Xian churches. Quite like the Anglican church I had attended in Dar-es-salaam years ago.
Ash is excited. He wants to know if we are going to the church where Mr Bean sang his hallelujahs!

The litter bug

Today, being a very rainy day, the lazy parents didn't send the kids to school. Ash, for one,had slept poorly owing to his wheezing that hasnt got better after the latest bout of fever.
The skies cleared later in the morning, making me regret my decision. Mira, for one, was dying to go to school until she found other activities - messing up the house - to keep her engaged.
I am waiting for her to get over that phase - of picking stuff from my dressing table, from the kitchen, books and any knick-knack she fancies and putting them in a polythene bag or her school bag; of littering the house with anything she finds interesting to play with and later discards; of unmaking the made bed and folded bedsheets. All activities that make me go insane and makes the man of the house blame the two women in the house for keeping the house untidy.
Ash seems to have got over that phase last year, but he often joins Mira in all the fun. The maid blames Ash for setting a bad example to Mira, her pet. I tell her it is a phase that kids go through and the issue is not merely one of Mira getting influenced by her brother. She is hard to convince - as it is of many adults with set ideas, and a Malloo one at that!

A happy Vezhambal*

The much-awaited northeast monsoons have set in. It made a tame entry yesterday, so thankfully the laundry could be washed and dried without much problem. But today it is in full swing, and the kids went to school in the steady drizzle. Classes were only half full, with many children absenting themselves or walking in late thanks to the traffic jams.Mira has been telling me that she wants a raincoat - "all the children put this button, this button and this button with a cap on". Guess we will have to get them raincoats as I dont feel they are smart enough to wield their colourful Popy umbrellas; though in Kerala each little kid is armed with an umbrella since we get rains a good part of the year. And when it doesnt rain, we hold it against the sun to protect our complexions!
Back to Mira. Everyday she comes up with some demand or the other.
'All the children bring noodles/bread and jam/ice cream to school, so I want that.' So yesterday I sent her bread and jam, and today noodles. I know she is cooking up the ice cream story. Requests for a Barbie doll schoolbag or a Spiderman snackbox or a Pokemon waterbottle are not far behind.
Ash however is not so ambitious. He is happy with whatever we give.
*For the edification of non-Malayalis - Vezhambal or the Great Hornbill is our state bird, and it is believed to look earnestly at the clouds in anticipation of rains.

Lucky mascots

Letting go of a vehicle that stood us in good stead for 5 years has been emotionally difficult. The vehicle is almost a family member, and V, who does all the driving for us, was the saddest to let our white Zen go today. The 5-year-old M-800 before that had been equally dear but had made way for the Zen because we thought our newborn (Ash) deserved a better vehicle. Maruti Truevalue , which gave us a fair price for both, hopefully will find a good customer who will take good care of it.
The other lucky mascots in our life have been the kids, especially Ash during whose gestation V landed his present job. And at a time when he gets another elevation in post and responsibilities, he cant but help attribute all his good fortune to his little son, who personally has not been so lucky about his health.

Just yesterday night, we realised how much the separation during the last summer vacation had affected Ash. As V casually mentioned another holiday for the kids in Kerala next summer, Ash began sobbing and said he didnt want to go to his paternal grandparents again on his own. He cried in fear about the induppu (rock salt) application that had been part of the ayurveda treatment during his two-month stay there. It took us an hour to console him, and he was still not convinced that the induppu experience was a thing of the past and that it would not be repeated.
Not that he loves his grandparents any less; but the trauma of the treatment has been so imprinted in his mind that he is terrified of going there again without our company. He is however willing to try my parents' place the next summer.

Tense tensions

The kids are yet to get a sense of tense and time. So the sentences range from "Lia peed in the class next month" to "Didnt you give me a chocolate last year/month" (when it is actually last week). Yesterdays and tomorrows are easier for them to comprehend, the rest of the dates are either too advanced or too long ago. So, Ash begins his conversations with pandu pandu (once upon a time...).

No, it is not a matter of worry but one of entertainment as the kids master their mother tongue.

***

While a sick Ash continues to co-sleep, Mira is learning to sleep on her own at night. I know it is late by Western standards but we are still not emotionally ready to wean them. She sleeps alone on the big bed in the children's room while the maid sleeps on the floor. Twice, she woke up early dawn and joined us. She continues to be a baby for us and we are just not ready to let go....

***

Mira likes minimum adornments on herself - no hairclips, bands, bangles or chains. The school rules suit her fine - no necklace or nailpolish or fancy jewellery. Only black bands and hairclips. But a bindi on the forehead is no problem. However, Mira has been shunning all forms of make-up this year as she fears her bullying peers. She tells us that the kids will take them away, so today when I put a watery bindi on her forehead she was in tears. I pretended to wipe it away and she ran off to catch the school van happily (though a bit unhapy that she couldnt doublecheck the erased bindi in the mirror)

When she came home and found the yello bindi still intact on her forehead, she gave her poor nanny a dressing down. "Kalli, you tell me that the bindi has gone and it is still there," she fumed.

It gave us adults some moments of mirth - our domineering, tomboyish, little girl.