Been a couple of months since one posted on this blog and leaps and bounds of progress happened since. Dont know whether to attribute it to therapy or to the normal process of growing up or purely the fact that he is interacting with more kids than is usual. He will now inform me that he needs to pee, or he needs to sit the potty. Excuse the grammatical incorrectness, I write in Krish speak. Proudly since he finally has a vocabulary that is increasing by the day. Dont shout. Dont make eyes, he tells me, when I get annoyed with him. I am happy he informs me. Uncle shouting. Pappa shouting. Mamma carry. Full sentences. Of more than three words at a time. Can name body parts, point out pictures in a book. And sing songs. And much more, much to my pleasure and delight. I kneel before every deity in the universe in gratitude. Someone up there is listening to my prayers. And I didnt throw my back out of gear travelling up and down the length and breadth of the city to take him to school and therapy to no avail. Am I a good mother?
We had our bdayparty in October and the entire clan had gathered for the festivities, which I thought was so cute of them to spend megabucks on flight tickets and the like and even cut unit tests for some to make it for the celebrations. The brat was overjoyed, his cup runneth over. He was in his element at the birthday party dressed aka Himesh Reshammiya in racer jacket and cap, and even did a mock performance for the audience. The party, like all kiddy parties, was enlivened only by the children who played, ran around, created a general mess, got into scraps, fought for prizes and gifts, and ensured that we adults had a good time watching them. Returned home to count the gifts which needed the dickeys of two cars to tote home. Ten year old cousin from Gurgaon was delighted to get some toys not of immediate use for brat. I was delighted of the opportunity to immediately rid myself of future junk. The cupboards are already groaning in protest--clothes, bags, toys, games, vehicles. The base of the bed is full of clothes we have grown out of but 'which are still good enough, in case you have a second one', according to the never say die hopeful grandmothers. Bassinets and cradles balance with ungainly splendour over the cupboards, neatly wrapped in discarded bedsheets in the same anticipation. The cupboards are groaning with new clothes. A basket on the dresser contains home use clothes which have to be changed frequently in the course of the day given our penchant for water play, juice, chocolate and eating on our own. The house is taken over with car, cycles, desk and chairs and assorted stuff that occupies floor space. We have a collection of dinky cars that can rival that the best --Gautam Singhania move aside.
Back to school now. Happy Dipali. Happy Dipali. Dipali happy? He yelled, hanging from the grill separating him from his class, before the gates were opened. Dipali, his class teacher, laughed. Happy Diwali to you too, Krish.