On 19th Jan 2014.

In November 2010 when a parent said they lit a candle and cut a cake on their child’s birth anniversary each year, I was sure I could never do that.

But today, Brat Three cut this cake.

LoveYouTejaswee

And her brother insisted on this orange candle…

Orange Candle

* * *

Later this afternoon I wanted to rest but Brat Three woke me up, asking me to come and see something. “Can’t it wait Brat Three? I am trying to get some sleep!”

No protests, no attempts to convince, no ‘it will take only a moment’, just an uncharacteristic, almost meek, “Okay.”

Later when I got up she got this for me to see.

HappyBirthdayTejasweeRao“How did you think of making this card Brat Three?”

“Because it’s her birthday today.”

“But she can’t see it… how will she see this card Brat Three…”

“She will. She knows. She can see from there.”

 * * *

Earlier this morning Brat Three had to draw a ‘Family Tree’ for her home work and she asked if she should show three children in our family.

I wasn’t sure.

“Name the three children?”

“…then should I show two children?”

“Three is fine. There’s you, Brat Two and Tejaswee.”

Tejaswee2

* * *

And this photograph is from 19th Jan 2010. Tejaswee’s 19th birthday. The dogs came out every morning to say ‘bye bye to Tejaswee’ …barking to make her come back.

DSC_0006

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On 19th Jan 2011.

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Of Calvin, a dream, an old song, and a birthday…

What are little girls made of?

While walking a dog…

What makes Brat Three happy – II

This October we initiated a much planned and discussed remodelling of our kitchen. Plumbing, woodwork, tiling – the works.

On one of the days, there was rubble on the living room floor and the gas stove and the microwave had been placed on the dining table, but the awesome Delhi winters had just begun and we decided to make pao bhaaji together, in the little free space available on the dining table. Brat Three eagerly peeled three garlic cloves and washed six tomatoes, and offered endless suggestions.

As we finally sat down to demolish hot, butter soaked paos Brat Three declared she was very happy and this was the kind of meals she loved 😀 

“You like meals with all this mess around?” Did it take a sackful of broken tiles to make Brat Three happy?

Ofcourse, what she was loving was more than just the cooking together and the eating together.

What does make Brat Three happy?

She had been practising for a dance for the Annual Function in her school. The daily rehearsals at home, typically included what everybody else was doing, what they were saying and forgetting to say. One such time I started recording, she noticed the mobile and started acting silly. I warned her I was going to continue recording. Making faces at the camera, she danced on one foot, danced on the sofa, danced with her back to the camera (on one foot), and then sang and danced to Bum Bum Bole from ‘Tare zameen par’ – with her back to the camera. 🙄 Then finally she turned to face the camera, coming closer, crossing her eyes, blinking and winking (etc etc). All recorded.

Brat Three: “You recorded all of it?”

IHM: “Come and watch.”

And it was funny. Maybe not as funny to everybody else, but it had me in splits. We watched and laughed a lot and then she wanted to watch it again. Brat Three seemed to be looking at my face all the time she was laughing.

Brat Three: “Play it again!”

IHM: “Again?? Okay.”

Some more laughter.

Brat Three: “One more time.” So I patiently played it again, but Brat Three was watching my face instead of the video.

IHM: “What happened?”

Brat Three:”Laugh. Laugh again!”

IHM“I have already seen it, so it is not as funny as the first time… you want to watch it again? We should watch it sometime later, then it will be more fun.”

Brat Three:”No. Play it again and laugh. Let’s watch it again and then you laugh again.”

IHM:”I am not laughing aloud, but I am still enjoying it. You want to watch it…?”

But she didn’t want to just watch the video again, she wanted the laughter. Just the laughter. And she sensed that she was the reason for that laughter. 

I told her I was very happy we were a family. And immediately she wanted to hear, once again, the story of how she brought back music and laughter in our lives, with her spirited, determined, vivacious presence.  And what makes Brat Three happy is, I think, (amongst a million other things) happy faces around her – specially when she is at the source of all that joy. Maybe that is what acceptance is all about?

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Brat Three loves Sher Khan and Sher Khan loves Brat Three.

Brat Three learns to argue, insist and convince.

Learning with Brat Three.

Brat Three has a mind of her own :)

Brat Three came back from the park looking angry and determined. She asked for my phone to call a friend who lives in the next building. I attempted to find what happened.

“Maybe I can help you?”

“No. I just want to talk to S.”

Well, it was just another nine year old she wanted to speak to. So I dialled the number on my mobile and gave her the phone, she took the phone, still looking upset, and walked into her own room and pushed the door shut. What would you do? I was puzzled by her reluctance to share what was bothering her but I also felt she had a right to a conversation with a friend who is the same age (and who I knew reasonably well).

And I could hear the conversation anyway.

“S. why did you tell me not to talk to F? Why should I stop talking to F? I am both’s friend. You can’t tell me not to talk to F or J or D, okay? I will talk to whoever I want to talk. Why did you say you will not call me to your birthday if I talk to F?”

There was some response, I couldn’t hear clearly although the phone was on speaker.

“If you will not call me for your birthday then I will also not call you for MY birthday party. Okay? I am not getting angry, I am explaining to you nicely. I am your friend and F is also my friend, I am both’s friend.”

There was some response, which she seemed to find satisfactory, because the tone changed, “Then I will also call you for my birthday and I will call F also and J and D.”

The same points were further stressed in the next few sentences and then a bye.

Brat Three came out and gave the phone to me, looking visibly relieved. “S is going to call me for his birthday and I will also call him for my birthday. I told him. I didn’t get angry, I explained to him nicely. I will not stop talking to F. I am both’s friend.”

🙂

Related Post:

Brat Three loves to Paint.

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Brat Three – Questions about death.

Brat Three loves Sher Khan and Sher Khan loves Brat Three.

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Learning with Brat Three.

This is what makes Brat Three happy :)

1.

More than an year after buying running shoes and after having given up any hopes that it would ever happen, after having deleted the apps for running from my cellphone –  I have started jogging 😀

Didn’t expect it to happen. I had gone down to see why Brat Three was late from the park, she was playing what she called basket ball but which didn’t look like it, but she was having a lot of fun – so I decided on an impulse to attempt to run. And I loved it 😀  Brat Three loves it even more, she loves it that she can run way faster. (She finishes the same round of the park in 44 seconds, I take 1 minute 13 seconds).

So she runs ahead and hides in the hedges or bushes and jumps at me out of the darkness, with a loud ‘Ho’ and I get a fright almost each time, and that makes her day 🙄 And how many times can you do that before you are fed up? Brat Three can do it forever 🙂

When I happened to mention this to my mother, she, all but burst into tears – she said this is what makes her happy.

2.

Brat Three loves frocks. Frilly, lacy, preferably glittery, shiny, colorful pink frocks. The first time I spent some time showing her more comfortable options before we picked a pink frock (will share pictures). The morning after she wore it I entered her room to hear her singing, arms stretched out in a hug to the frock on a chair back. She sang, “Frock I love you”.

Here are some more recent pictures in a black frock that she also likes because it has lace, satin, ribbons and frills.

These pictures were taken on the way back from a birthday party…

Brat Three, Older child adoption, Adoption after death of an adult child, daughter
2.
Brat Three, Older child adoption, Adoption after death of an adult child, daughter
3.

“…Audacious smiles
laughter ringing clear-
warm hugs and
little sudden pecks on my cheeks!

A whirlwind of a girl;
now here, gone in a flash!…”

From Usha Pisharody’s For a Daughter I Wish I’d Had!!!
Brat Three, Older child adoption, Adoption after death of an adult child, daughter
4.
Brat Three, Older child adoption, Adoption after death of an adult child, daughter
5.
Brat Three, Older child adoption, Adoption after death of an adult child, daughter

6.
Brat Three, Older child adoption, Adoption after death of an adult child, daughter
7.

Brat Three, Older child adoption, Adoption after death of an adult child, daughter
8.

She wishes she was a bird or at least a Flutterby 😀
Happiness is..., Brat Three, Older child adoption, Adoption after death of an adult child, daughterRelated Posts:

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On 19th Jan 2013.

Who likes mangoes?

Introducing a new family member.

Why this?

Brat Three – Questions about death.

When we flew home with Brat Three the first time in July 2012, she stood looking outside the window, asking an odd question and looking outside, very calm, very well mannered and very quiet. Quite unlike her real self.

Then, this June we flew to Baghdogra and I realised how much more comfortable and ‘herself’ she had become. She laughed aloud at the take-off and then had endless questions about everything she saw.   Clouds from the planeAnd then she asked,

Tejaswee kahan hai? Main itnee der se clouds mein dekh rahee hoon, mujhe to kaheen naheen dikh rahee. Maybe she is behind that cloud, in that hole.”

(Where is Tejaswee? I am looking for her in these clouds but I can’t see her anywhere.”) sky, cloudsThis June, while searching online for a school project, we found dolls’ furniture, and hoping it would keep her occupied during the long, long days of the summer vacations, we decided to try making some. Didn’t realise how much she would love this bed… or maybe what she loved was the process of the making of the doll’s bed.

She was so happy that she was worried. 2013-06-29 07.56.14 DollBed.jpg.14 “Jab aap mar jaogee to aap upar clouds mein chalee jaogee, phir aap wapas meri friend ban ke aa jaana to mein khush ho jaooungee.”

(When you die, you will go up, up in the clouds. Then you must come back as my friend, then I will become happy again.)

Tejaswee

Another time.

“Why have you hung Tejaswee’s big pictures on the wall here?”

“Because I miss her…  she is not here with us.”

“Don’t you miss me? Put my pictures, big pictures.”

“You are here. We are all here… we can hug and hold each other…”

“When she comes back then you remove her photos and put my pictures.”

We have talked about death and attempted to talk about cells, heart (with a You Tube video) and breathing and ‘not feeling anything anymore’, about ‘going up’ and about ‘never coming back’, but how do we explain what we don’t want to or can’t understand? 

I gave her a hug. “She will never come back Brat Three.”

“Sometimes it can happen, sometimes she can come back.” (She says the same thing about the Delhi Metro, “Sometimes there can be 5 coaches in the metro.” Or, “Sometimes Sunday can come again after Monday.”)

“If she comes back, she will herself remove her photographs and put your photographs up here.”  

Tejaswee2

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Who likes mangoes?

On 19th Jan 2013.

On 19th Jan 2013.

On 19th Jan 2013 she would have been 22 and we did nothing…  what we each did try, in our own ways, was to try to pretend that it was just another day. It was a mistake.

A mother (and now a friend) who lost her 23 year old son in an accident said she could not even think of adopting, even if she wanted to, because her son would not have liked to see her hug or shower affection on anyone other than himself. I understood what she meant. There are many things I can or cannot do because I know Tejaswee would have been glad to see them done or not done. I feel warmer towards people she liked, a favourite cousin,  a dear friend…  and the cat whose life she saved and the dog she brought home are like precious bits of her we have with us.

I also want to watch the movies she thought were worth watching, support the causes she supported or read the books she had been asking me to read (Everybody Loves a Good Drought, Shantaram… ) Most of the time it is easy because what she loved I loved too. But sometimes, even with all the common interests, it’s impossible to read something she liked and not think, “She read these words.” And then begins the same cycle of wondering why any parent had to accept this, and then the resignation and the realisation of our own insignificance. We did not matter.

One of the mothers I got in touch with through this blog lost her 24 year old daughter in 2011. She spoke aloud some of the things I said to myself and she sounded like a lost child. “Why did she die? How could she die? How will I live now?” Same questions repeated hundreds of time. Sometimes I put her on speaker and cycled on a stationery bike or made a cup of tea. Sometimes I felt like shaking her and telling her to stop, which I am sure is why those who are grieving are asked to, “Try to focus on something else.” Not because it helps the person who is trying to make sense of something that can never make sense to them, but because the person who is trying to help doesn’t know what to do (Just listen). Sometimes I joined her.

After having said this to herself every day for around an year and a half, one day she said, and I heard my own thoughts in her words, “I think I am beginning to accept that she is gone… “ and then she asked, “But how could I!? Am I forgetting her? Didn’t she matter? She was my life!! I thought I would go mad or die, but I am talking about how I am feeling!” So this person, I have never met and someone I never completely agree with (she thinks it’s okay that women are not allowed to read the vedas) – recently said, “This evening I was coming home from the gym and I realised I was feeling alright… Are our lives getting back to ‘normal’?”

I asked, “You tell me? Is this how you were before your daughter died?” The ‘normal’ today means for me to learn to avoid triggers that cause more pain. It’s the way all animals (or life forms) behave, we avoid what hurts.

But what if what hurts is something the child we are grieving would have loved for us to do? Tejaswee would have wanted me to remember her on her birthdays – to do something to mark the day.

Grieving parents receive a lot of advice, mostly it is  either to cry or to not cry; either to talk about the pain or to ‘not dwell upon it’. In the beginning it is not possible to control any of this. In the beginning I sat staring at her photographs and repeating (to myself) a million times, “She died. She just died. She really died. How could she die? How could this happen? There is only one way this can be undone, I should wake up and find this a nightmare.” While brushing teeth, while walking to the door to answer the door bell, while being shocked to find that I cry in exactly the same way she did (as an adult I had never before cried aloud, she never heard so this must be something that genes decided not environment), while conversing normally with visitors, while living an increasingly ‘normal’ life.

Someone we recently met insisted that we visit them. Meeting those  who do not know about Tejaswee can be difficult because they might ask how many kids we have, and, it’s not possible to simply and honestly say, “Three. 22, 21 and the youngest is 9.”  And I can never say two. But I think she knew, because she  told us about her brother, who had died in an accident. She said her mother had found it helped her to connect with other parents coping with child loss. And this was more than thirty years ago. I was grateful for the conversation and will be meeting her mother, in her seventies now, when she visits her this winter.

Why does meeting other parents help? One of the things it does is, I think, it lets you know that you are not alone in feeling the way you do.

I had attempted to push my son to get closer to those who were sure to take good care of him because I was sure the grief would kill me or make me take my own life. The guilt and confusion became easier to deal with after learning I wasn’t the first mother to feel this way. One of the mothers I met asked her sister to adopt her child, and yet another mother attempted suicide thrice, and only stopped when the surviving child, (then 25) pleaded she waits until this child of hers was married. Another friend lost her only child (18) and also wished for death but has no idea (like me) why she didn’t actually attempt it. Amit Sharma has blogged about suicide – and I want to thank him, I would have never had the courage to admit this if it was not for his courageous post here. But not talking about these issues means those who have these thoughts have no way to find out they are not alone.

At first staring at Tejaswee’s photos was all I could do, then once I chanced upon a picture [shared here] I had not seen for a long time… why do we take pictures? It brought back that morning – it was her seventeenth birthday. I had told her no matter how cute babies were, it was awesome to have grown up kids. Now seeing that picture I didn’t want to remember that morning. And I didn’t ever want to forget even a moment of that morning. But I wanted to remember it with her which was not possible. And so, feeling slightly short of breath, I understood for the first time why the mother in ‘Rabbit Hole’ put away their son’s photographs.

Another mother in ‘Beyond Tears‘ couldn’t listen to music, specially celebratory music. I was glad I wasn’t alone. Music came back to our house with Brat Three – she brought back dancing too. She has no idea we can say ‘Thank you’, or ‘I love you’ or ‘I like mango’ without actually singing and dancing to say that 😀 

A friend tells me she would not complain if her child (who is coping with a medical condition) ‘finds peace’ and that ‘maybe Tejaswee is at a better place’. But Tejaswee was where she wanted to be, she loved her life, she had a lot to look forward to and she always said she wanted to live a long, long life [On Growing Old and Dying Early…]

Another suggestion that never works for me is, “Atleast you had these nineteen and a half years with her.” I have tried telling this to myself but I am very sure that the pain (for me) is not worth it, or worth anything. What would Tejaswee have chosen? My son says he is not sure what he would have chosen.

Together some of us have reached a point where we can (mostly) choose to focus our thoughts on what keeps us busy. But now I also understand that grief cannot be run away from. It’s there just below the surface and if the minds denies it space, it takes over the body. 

On 19th January this year it had seemed improbable that the difficulty in breathing while trying to find photographs from Tejaswee’s 19 birthdays (to create a collage) could have been caused because it was her 22nd birthday and she was not there. It didn’t make sense because the pain now was nothing compared to the initial months. Also now there was control over what one thought – enough to simply have locked a part of the brain – and to go on like there never was a young woman called Tejaswee Rao who would have been aghast that her mother was not doing anything special on her 22nd birthday. Just because she had died. The breathing became laboured again, though only momentarily, on mother’s day, but we were in Kufri and it was cold, so there were other explanations.

But the wheezing this morning was undeniable. I had been ill these past few days but there had been no wheezing and it was frustrating to think that this day might end in a hospital again. But then, if the mind could make the body sick, maybe the mind could fight back too? So I snuggled up to Brat Three and told we were going to light a green candle today and we were going to talk about how much we missed her older sister, and that if I cried it would only mean that I was sad because I was missing her. But what does Brat Three know about Tejaswee? Son spoke about the books she would have read to Brat Three, the cakes they would have baked together, the clowning, dancing, stories, movies, outings and hair dos they would have done together. I wish they had met. Husband joined on the phone and Brat Three saw an opportunity to ask if she could watch Chak de India a second time. Later while I wrote this post and son was reading, suddenly we heard clapping from the TV area.  Her sister would have put her laptop aside and joined her in cheering for Team India.

For now the wheezing has stopped and it feels like there was no illness ever, if it comes back by evening or tomorrow, then it was not caused by stress.

Photograph by Divesh Idnani, June 2009

And here’s an email I received this morning, in answer to: “Is this how you were before your daughter died?”

Date: Sunday, 11 August, 2013, 6:25 AM
> I am fed up of telling people I am
> ok.Why should I tell anyone I am ok when I am not?Yet,I look
> ok to all and sundry.I smile with them,I greet them,laugh at
> their jokes,listen to their talks…
> But how am I?Ammu,I am not the amma you knew.I am living
> without you.I never thought I could.I still cant believe.So
> many days I wish to wake up and find you.
> I spend each day thinking let today be over fast.I avoid so
> many people.I miss talking to you.How many times I have told
> you not to tell so many things at the same time.You used to
> tell me about so many things.How much I miss your
> chatter.About your friends.I knew more about them than their
> parents.Your kindness.How much I learnt from you.How do you
> think I am now?Do you think of me?Only afterwards,I knew you
> have touched so many hearts.*** called up to say how you
> used to give him your notes as he had to miss college to
> work to support his family.He told me you never told
> anybody.I told him you are like that.
> Why did you have to go?Was it your time?We had lot of things
> to do.Is it all over?You wanted to do so many things.So many
> small things.So many big things. How much should I think
> and cry?That is all I can do now.I see your things,dust them
> and keep it as it was.You love new gadgets.I cry when I see
> something new.Who will explain it to me?
> …
> Cant write anymore da.There is so much to tell you.

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We can’t change what we would give anything to change, but we can control how we deal with it.

Three thoughts on Bhag Milkha Bhag.

1.

The Marital Rape scene in Bhag Milkha Bhag.

Those who think marital rape should remain legal need to watch this movie. The scene is disturbing, conveys the reluctance, fear, humiliation, disgust, anger and helplessness of those who wouldn’t imagine walking out of the situation.

And that is how watching a sexual crime happen should make you feel.

Brat Three was watching the movie too, and I have no idea what she thought or understood… I will have to talk to her… maybe I should tell her that sometimes some people hurt other people and it’s very wrong and should not be tolerated. No review had mentioned this scene – maybe because it happens behind a make shift curtain.

The movie also touches upon another unrecognised crime – Forced Marriages. And how both the crimes-against-women impact men.

So much is conveyed. Why Indian women might see brothers as saviours. How marital rapists live normal lives and set examples for others who have no other way to learn about sex. Why some people might never respect women except their mothers and sisters, not even the women married into their own families.

Edited to add: The only reason why the man could demand that the victim come to him, to be beaten and raped was because he had the social and legal sanction to do so. He felt no guilt, he was offended because she didn’t come as soon as she was called. Any rapist doing this in any other circumstances is unimaginable, but the witnesses in this crime see it as either unfortunate or titillating.

2.

The movie shows Milkha seeing women (or sex with women) as ‘weakness’ (or vice?!) that men may have. Alcohol and lack of discipline could impact a sportsperson’s performance, but relationships?

3.

As soon as the movie finished Brat Three turned to her brother and said, “You should also run like him!” 

IHM: “What about you? Don’t you want to run like him?”

Brat Three: “No, I am a girl… did you see any girls?”

IHM: “Ofcourse girls also run… I must tell you P T Usha’s story! 🙂 :)” (which I must google and read first 😦 )

Brat Three: I want pani poorie for lunch!!

I had recorded Chak de India and plan to watch it with her today – without saying anymore about whether or not girls can or should run. And I hope somebody decides to make a movie about PT Usha too.

In the meantime Bhag Milkha Bhag is very much a movie worth watching, even though it does not pass Bechdel Test.

Related Posts:

Marital Rape in Bhaag Milkha Bhaag: Why We Need To Talk About It?l

“Instituting the idea of marital rape raises the specter of a man going for long periods without sex even though he’s married!”

Making Marital Rape a legal offence is the fastest way to make it clear that Rape means forced sex, not lost Virginity or Honor.

What do you think of these doubts regarding recognition of marital rape as a crime?

Sex Education has nothing to do with Blue Films.

Brat Three loves Sher Khan and Sher Khan loves Brat Three.

What does he plan to do?
DSC_2703Yum?!

DSC_2704
Does your cat like to eat grass?
DSC_2701-002Brat Three brings this grass from here and I only hope it has no pesticides.
Brat Three got it from here

And even after it has dried, this treat is taken along…

Grass for Puppy.jpg.06

Wherever she is taking her class. 

all her students.jpg.00

Although he is forgotten in the star charts…

DSC_3079

He is never really left alone 🙂

DSC_3075

DSC_2989

And this is how Sher Khan reciprocates.

Brat Three and Sher Khan

More proof here 🙂

Note: The Cinderella and Rapunzel are edited versions and can be found on GB’s awesome blog.

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Why this?

I can understand why R’s Mom’s asked, ‘Why This?‘ 

DSC_5789

We have had various versions of this conversation, many times.

Brat Three: “I am so black!!!!” (with a look of disgust at her own reflection in the mirror)

IHM: (Pretending to have missed her disgust) “Yes 🙂 Not black though, you are dark brown I think. Nice colour.”

She was shocked when she heard this the first time.

Brat Three: “It’s ugly. I like white.”

IHM: “White is nice too, but why don’t you like dark brown?”

brat three

Brat Three: “See? My arms, legs, face are all black… darkbrown. I am so ugly.”

IHM: “You are not ugly! You look nice. You have lovely dark brown skin…”

Brat Three: “If you like darkbrown so much, you take it.”

I tried telling her:  

“We are all various shades of brown, whatever colour we are born with, we live with that. Some people like their own colour, some don’t but it can’t be changed. Hair colour can be changed, and even eye colour can be changed. Why don’t you like dark brown? It’s a pretty colour.”

Or something like this:

“Some people like pink, some blue, some green, right? Some people like ice cream, some like pani poori, same way some people like dark brown, some black, some golden, some white.”

Also showed her pictures of good looking, dark skinned women, not always pointing out the skin colour, just letting her see for herself.

Then last week: 

Brat Three: “My face looks ‘lighter’ in hot sun, then I look nice.” (Looking very happy about this)

IHM: “Even if you play in very hot sun, you won’t get a sun burn, because dark brown skin has lots of melanin. Dark skin is made for playing in the sun 🙂 :)”

Brat Three: “Sun burn….? What is melanin?”  (Surprised but, surprisingly, delighted.)

She delighted me too with her surprise. Finally I knew what to say.

IHM: “The more the melanin, the darker the skin. Those who live in cold places don’t need melanin, because they don’t have strong sun. Those who need to face strong sun need more melanin in their skin, or else the sun can cause sun burn. You can generally play in the sun without fearing sun burn. Most probably you won’t get wrinkles till you are really old, maybe fewer spots too!” [link]

And for the first time she didn’t look disgusted 🙂

This delight was different from when she woke up one morning to find that Tooth Fairy had taken away her tooth and left her a blue pony she had asked for…

SherKhan loves Brat Three

When she had said in astonishment, “Tooth Fairy likes darkbrown!”

moon follows me, dark brown

Still earlier, sometime around October last year when she first noticed that the moon was ‘following her’ during our evening walks and said in astonishment, Moon follows me! Moon likes me…….   Dark Brown.” 

What would you do?

Related Posts:

Why This? – R’s Mom

Fat is Beautiful, Short is Sweet – Rekha

I am dark, hear me roar! – Sangitha

You don’t owe prettiness to anyone.

Introducing a new family member.

Two conversations with Brat Three

Learning with Brat Three.

Who likes mangoes?

Brat Three learns to argue, insist and convince.

Brat Three learns to argue, insist and convince.

Brat Three doesn’t mind online shopping. Also, while I need to explain about how it works and how, and why not to believe it (or anything) blindly, for now I am happy she has observed without really being told that writing on the computer gets answers.

From the first second time I met her she wanted many dolls and as many clothes as possible for them.

“Aapko kaise lagega agar aapko daily same kadpe pehenne parenge, DAILY? (Translation: How would you feel if you had to wear the same clothes everyday?) You will feel so bad. Same way! Mamma please type dolls’ clothes… for… , ab likho, “My daughter wants dolls’ clothes..  I want DEE – O – LLS clothes… yes. Like this… because my dolls have not so many clothes bus only two clothes. And write Brat Three wants to play with dolls and take a bath with dolls and dolls have not many clothes… some dolls have not any clothes, that’s why I am asking you… ” 

“But actually I am okay if I have two sets clothes.” I said.

Doesn’t believe me.

“Now you have to wear the same clothes for ten days, then you will understand. I am telling you the truth… I want dolls to look nice, not wearing same dirty clothes everyday. Woooooowwww, a pigeon in the window… Owls can’t come here. Mamma that was not a Kite, it’s an eagle… can eagles see in the dark?” (I had told her owls could eat pigeons and other birds, that is why they needed to settle down before dark, didn’t realise it would worry her.)

“No Eagles and Kites can see very well but not in the dark.” (I am typing as she speaks…)

I had forgotten kids talked like this, hopping from one subject to another  🙂 There is so much to say!

“I want a surprise. Mamma children like surprize! You can give me a surprise, okaaaay?”

“It can’t be a surprise if you know about it…” (still typing 🙂 )

“Her name is Dorothy and her name is Elizabeth. Her name is not Dora.”

***

Finally we found some fabric, got out scissors and fabric glue and made our own clothes. Now all the dolls in the house can be seen wearing amazingly creative outfits, from sarees to off shoulder dresses, all unstitched, and all in the same dark pink 🙂

Should have taken some pics! Will take and share when they are dressed up next 🙂

Edited to add: For now here’s a hairstyle,

Doll hairstyleRelated Posts:

Introducing a new family member.

Two conversations with Brat Three

Learning with Brat Three.

Who likes mangoes?