Hello! Do not go away! That unread item on your reader is actually a new post. Yes, I know I wrote yesterday. Yes, I know this is weird. Yes, I know there is a vague possibility that PETA has finally hacked my blog and decided to write about cruelty to animals as posts, instead of spamming my comments section (Seriously guys, you can give it a break. I NEVER check the links you send).
But they haven’t. I am here because my mother who reads my blog read my post yesterday and went “Oh My God! Are you alright? What happened? Is everything ok? Why do you sound so philosophical, Dear Lord the devil has taken over my daughter SAVE HER, SOMEBODY!”
Ok it wasn’t this dramatic but it definitely made me want to come back and write some more. Real stuff ok, as in stuff that matters. Like Zo is 3. *Insert exaggerated expression of shock here* (which should be equal to or more than what you can see on the face of MasterChef Australia season 6 contestant Emily, every time ANYTHING is “revealed”. K serials should hire her.) Three is big people. It’s like I had to turn the “Baby on Board” sign on the car to “Child on Board” officially. Three is shockingly big. It is “Mummy, I was wondering where you were, I was so worried about you” when mummy returns from a 5 minute trip to the loo. It is “You said NO screaming” when you scold her for licking sugar off the plate like a puppy. It is sulking in a corner saying “Nobody’s giving ME huggies and kissies” when you sneak in a hug with The Dude. It is “Give me the phone, I’ll take a selfie”. Like I said, it is BIG. In capital letters.
Zo’s third birthday was a small affair at school where she cut cake and gave out chocolates along with strict instructions to all recipients that “no opening the chocolate until you have finished your snack”. There was a follow up celebration at home with just us and the Grandparents. The birthday dress was a midnight blue “with stars”, an explanation which worked in steering her off pink, not that I have any issues with her love for the color but Godammit I need more shades in her cupboard. She maintained her usual Rockstar Diva avatar, preening around, announcing to all and sundry that “Aaj mera Budday hai”, something she does once a week on an average in general.
Zo has an amazing understanding of things around her now. I was all set to go for my morning walk today (yes, I started, yesterday, pray for me) and she was obviously up, thanks to the Dude’s genes she carries. I told her in the most grown up manner that I’d be gone for a half hour and then get back to ready her for school. She responded extremely politely saying “ Accha, tab tak mai Aaji ke saath kheloon?” I said yes. To which she said “Ok. But give me a TIGHT huggie and kissie before going!” I went all Awww and obliged and left. When I returned, I narrated the incident to my mother in law, in front of Zo, upto the bit where she asked for the hug and kiss. And Zo, who was busy doing her own thing till then, turned around, and said, “And then Mummy said Awwwwww”! To say I was shocked was an understatement cos come on, to be cute is normal, but to know that you’re cute, unbelievable.
That being said, managing a kid is tough. And at many points I wondered where does one learn parenting from? How do you know what the right thing to do or say is? I mean, we all know it gets tough to agree to the fact that your mom and dad were right once you grow up, so following their theories blindly doesn’t happen. But how do you form your own theories? And I realize, the answer is, magic! Ok, not so much magic, as much as it is convenience. I realized this when we were walking around a garden and Zo was running in front. There were wet patches and I kept repeating that she should not step into the water. And I thought to myself, why was I doing this? It’s not that stepping in the water was that bad a thing? In fact, if my mom said that when I was a kid, I would think what the big deal was really. It was a bit of water, it wouldn’t make me ill, or drench me. But I was still saying it involuntarily. And that was because, if she did step in the water, there was a minute chance of it screwing up her shoes, and that might seep into her socks and then I would have to wash all that, and it wouldn’t dry in time to be packed so I would have to keep it in a separate plastic packet and carry it home and it would stink and it would mean I would have unpack immediately when we reach and Oh My God I would rather she DOES NOT step into the water all! So I kept saying it. And it worked. So there. Parenting 101 for you. If you didn’t find it helpful, atleast it can give you an ego boost, that you’re definitely doing a better job that this mom here. You’re welcome.
There’s more, ofcourse there’s more. Zo stories and gyan and general blah. But I will dole it out in phases because too much of awesomeness after a drought can be too much to handle no? So hang on, stick around, and do not give up as yet. Things can only get better. Ok?