Learning to speak in English...

We are a nation obsessed with English. We are a nation obsessed with getting our kids to speak English, correct grammar and all, right from the beginning (yeah I swear on that by my Wren and Martin).
An English-medium education is what we all crave for our kids -- everyone wants it for their kids -- from the household help, the vegetable seller, the dhobi, your neighbour, YOURSELF (myself included), your neighbour, your cousins in small towns and villages. I'm not looking down upon anyone here, just saying that it's a universal aspiration.
There is pride and joy on our iron-man's face when he reminds me (each time i ask him how his daughters are doing) "Nan makkalu English-medium nalli odtaavre" (My kids study in English medium).

And I haven't been left behind either. I've joined the rat race too, in complete rat-like earnestness to get Sonny to understand some English before he takes those giant steps to "big boy's school" next academic year.

Honestly I hadn't realised how soon it begins till one day we were in an argument, Sonny and I, about some random thing. We were as usual talking in Kannada, our mother tongue. Then, in frustration, i cant remember on what issue, I screamed in English: "Where do you want me to be?" After a moment of silence he said "Here, at home." I was shocked.
a) I hadn't expected a reply to my rhetorical question
b) I hadn't expected him to really understand my question
c) I hadn't expected a reply in English.
d) I hadn't expected a completely coherent phrase/sentence.

It was then that it struck me that he'd told me a few days ago, some time post the Dasara vacation that his playhome teachers had been telling them all to converse in school only in English. So now it's "I want water" (of course, "please" is still a difficult word in his world). A sharp "Yah" (with a stress on the "h" sound) or a vehement head-nodding "No" to my questions. Sometimes a simple "Nice, I like" when he likes a dress I'm wearing. He's able to understand most of the questions I ask him in English. Sometimes replies in English, sometimes in Kannada, sometimes a mix of both languages...

I have a really failing memory, but what prompted me to write this post was a conversation I had last night with him, both of us sitting on the sofa, he was tracing lines on a work sheet his teacher had given. I wish I had immediately jotted it down then, but we spoke some four sentences, back and forth, Q and A, in complete coherence. I was quite amused...and well, happy.

I know of many Indian parents who straight away start talking to their kids in English only, since the child is born, so he/she picks up English well and early. I also know equally well of so many parents (like me and hubby) who insist on talking to the child only in our mother tongue at home, knowing that they will pick up English in school later anyway. And that they must know the language spoken by the family quite well.

We recently had some of hubby's guests from overseas home for dinner. After chatting them up with a few "Yah"s and "No"s he came beaming to me and said "Amma naanu avara jothey English-nalli maataadta iddeeni, with a twinkle in his eyes. (Mummy, I'm talking to them in English.) It's not like we've ever asked him to talk to anyone in English, but when we lapse into it in conversations at home, he joins us. I mean, I've had a really aggressive aunt of mine, a teacher, who has always insisted on speaking to him in English whenever she visited -- earlier he would look at her agog, wide eyed, but never understanding a word. I used to love watching them together.

I must also mention that Sonny's English has hit a high with his watching very seriously this channel called Cbeebies -- the BBC's children's channel. Saying he's addicted is an understatement. I like the channel too because there are no advertisements, the programmes are really short, and are really targeted at the pre-school age  group (at least most of those he likes watching).  Moreover, all these programmes have some form of learning woven into them -- concepts of colour, shapes, names of animals etc. There's also a show called "I can cook" which my Sonny watches like he's seriously gonna make the dish next at home! Many of the sentences are enunciated slowly, and I have often caught repeating these short sentences like "He has gone to bed", or "The sun has set" as he watches the show.

The birthday blues...not so blue after all

Each year, Sonny Boy's birthday brings on the worries. I know it's hardly the feeling to be associated with birthdays, specially of your child.

But only a mother like me who has an extensive web of relatives and friends living around, and who are more enthusiastic about your son's birthday than you are, (and whose parents pressure her into throwing a party

;-)) -- will know what I mean. And specially an Indian mother who has her child's birthday bang in the middle on the Monsoons, when the party surely gets rained out. And specially so when your own birthday is a few days apart from your child's, and you well, end up slogging on your own birthday :-( because the party inevitably happens a few days after his date...

After last year's experience, I learnt a few lessons.

I also spent a good month wondering what would make Sonny really happy -- I mean what kind of party....

So I ended up throwing two parties!!!!!

One to please my parents and all of Sonny Boy's grandparents/ great-grandparents (he has many!).

Then another one so that he's surrounded by kids and behaves like one! -- This one was for the limited number of friends he has -- apartment kids, my best friend's kid, my nieces and nephews. Of course, my own cousins were on the list too.

We decided

1. No party in a hotel or hired hall, no theme, no magicians, no "activities", no games

2. It has to be indoors (rain can't spoil all the fun, just some!)

3. No extravagant stuff

4. No exotic menu

5. No return gifts (kids these days who come to parties EXPECT  them!)

6. Menu would be good ol' cake-chips-juice-sandwich kind of stuff

Yeah I'm one mean money-saving mum, but damn, have you checked out what birthdays outside the home cost these days?!

Well, we pretty much stuck to the plan and it was fun to see Sonny and the kids hide under the bed and play, dance to rhymes on the DVD...they even opened some presents and played with the toys....

But damn, like every year, I promise myself, yet again, I'm not doing a party next year. :-)

A celebration of my child and my motherhood

Wow! I'm inching towards 100 posts...and to think that a few days after I started this blog, I had that oh-my-God-what-will-i-write-here-everyday-moment!

I decided today I will NOT do what I always do on this blog -- crib, complain and whine.

Instead I will celebrate the reason for this blog -- Sonny Boy and motherhood -- two things that sent my life, body, being, existence into a tizzy, and have after a point become one inseparable blob.

After another month, Sonny Boy turns three. And as much as I, a mean mother, paint a picture of him as being this little terror, he's really not. Well, not always ;-) Here are things about him at this stage that I've observed, and mostly love :-)

*He's got the sweetest smile ever -- something I'd like to believe he inherited from me.

*He's right now on a "story high" -- voraciously flipping through books, telling himself stories, concocting stories for us, constantly badgering us to tell him stories (without looking in the book, he warns!), or sometimes insisting on being read to, in English, and asking for word meanings in Kannada. His hot favourite story is "The Billy Goats Gruff", (I think Ladybird reader series), which only last night he, me and my parents had to enact, with his directions! Of course I get to play the troll (Rakshasa in his understanding) because I have that laugh!

*He talks endlessly and LOUDLY (is is something to do with their generation? he almost screams, he just can't talk soft!). (I'm not cribbing, just amused)

* He's started humming and singing to himself as he plays, or talks to himself, something that amuses us all to no end.

*He's told me I talk too much!

*He's comfy staying overnight with my parents (or rather my dad), and does it every time Hubby travels, which is turning out to be pretty often. He's also Ok with travelling to Hubby's parents' town and staying there with daddy -- that's a lot of growing up he's done this year.

*He challenges my creativity -- what can we do next is constantly on his mind -- so I go back from work to dribble the ball with him in my parents' garden, put together five or six jigsaw puzzles, then off home for dinner, then more games, building blocks, colouring, read storybook "Polar bear polar bear what do you hear? in bed, and THEN, sleep! God give me strength, energy and patience to deal with him.

*My levels of patience have definitely gone up a few hundred notches, though I admit, I still have a loooong way to go.

*He loves playing "homeopathy doctor" at home, dishing out "sugar pills" to us patients and telling us the rules we must follow when taking the medicine.

*His questions these days -- how does the mosquito suck blood? , how does the fan get switched on?, where does the water in the tap come from?, where does food go after it enters our mouth....these are answers I can tell in my sleep now, because I must've told them at least 20 times over.

*He's beginning to pick up some English while talking (otherwise restricted to rhymes and starting stories with 'Once upon a time'). An the smatterings of English in between Kannada is really fun to listen to. He also sings copious amounts of rhymes in Hindi, a hot favourite being "Saari duniya gol gol" as the playschool is teaching them concepts of the circle.

*He decides what he's going to have for dinner...and of course changes his choice midway!

*He loves the story of "Hanuman: The Monkey God" as he says it, repeating it for effect, and I guess this book is from the stables of Amar Chitra Katha. He has this story read to him at least once a day.

*He stumped me by showing interest, and in actually doing and completed three pieces of coloured sand art -- you know the DIY kinds where you sprinkle this coloured sand on sticky paper with a numbered design... out emerges a colourful bee, a butterfly or snail.

*I love the cuddling and snuggling soon after he wakes up, I love the way he reminds me every night to keep  the milk coupon and bag outside, I love the way he asks if we are all "real"!!!!

*I love the way he tries to soothe me if I'm in pain, rubs my tum and tells me I'll be ok soon. I really get ok instantly with that innocent reassurance.

* I love the way he brokers deals and puts conditions -- ending most of his propositions with "Ok naa?" (Is it ok?) I love his enthusiasm for putting up the mosquito net every night.

* I love the way he's decided he can make his own decisions -- what he will wear to school, what he wants in his lunchbox (he's pretty reasonable), how much he will eat, when he wants an eggroll for dinner, that he will participate with dad in Sunday pooja and be the bell-ringer during aarti, that I must go home while he stays with my parents, I love the way he asks if the maid and nanny have been given their breakfast, Oh god...I love him.

Hmmm.....about this post celebrating my motherhood, I'll do it another time I guess. I'm exhausted now ;-)

I've shaved and other stories: a quick milestones/achievement roundup of Sonny Boy..Yeah, I can be a proud mom too.

Sonny Boy is going to be two-years-and-four-months old in another 12 days.

As I look back on that, I realise there are so many things about him that I'm proud of, and happy for, for him.
I also realise I crib so often and so much and sound so negativistic here all the time, I'm making a monster of him and myself.

And then I realise he's not so bad, and neither am I. It's just that once I'm done releasing my frustrations on the blog (caused mostly by him and occasionally by hubby) I go back to Sonny peaceful and brimming with love. So thanks "blogging" -- for doing this much -- to allow me let off steam on you, rather than on my son.

Here are a lost of things he does now...I haven't made any scrapbook and i keep no other diary, so I hope this one is "for the record" and is around for me to access when Sonny is, say, 20 and I can tell him embarrassing stories about himself.

1. He's interested in doing things around the kitchen -- he loves peeling peas and togarikaalu, which is in season now. He does it with my grandma.

2. He quite enjoys helping me pluck and sort out methi (fenugreek greens). And i must say he does a dedicated job of it.

3. He can pull on his own nickers and pants after doing the loo round. And if there's enough time, he can even peel them off before heading to the loo. After a bath, he likes to wear his pants himself. That's way better than fighting wearing any clothes at all!

4. He can make up and tell stories. And very cute ones at that. He's inspired by the Panchatantra stories. Most of the characters in the stories are animals. And interspersed with them are his playschool teachers! Most of the animals have a upaaya (idea)! And once he finishes the story, he'll say "ashtey" (that's it) to hint to us that we must shower our appreciation. And he can't wait...so he'll follow "ashtey" with "CLAP!" (He told me four stories back-to-back before going to sleep this week, one night.)

5. He's singing rhymes like crazy -- mostly in English and Kannada and some in Hindi. He's picking up about two a week.

6. He is also beginning to deliberately distort language -- he sings rhymes with all words ending with the same sound. Or beginning with it. And enjoys everyone's amusement or irritation at it. He knows he's singing it weird and loves the sound of it.

7. He talks to his Teddy Bear -- this morning he was teaching Teddy to count out coins from a box. He even wanted to take Teddy along for a haircut.

8. He's showing more and more interest in eating by himself. Messy, prolonged, process. But boy! Is he interested! Whether to eat with hand/spoon/fork, he's an eager beaver.

9. At the park, he used to be fairly scared if any other child came and stood behind him to climb up the slide and he would just back off and let everyone go, stand and stare. Last week, I was thrilled to see when he went and told an older kid "Please, I'll go first". And the kid let him, and helped him up. He can climb up the wooden "monkey ladder" with ease and confidence.

10. He's got an imaginary friend whom he talks to sometimes...not very clear yet, but he does it sometimes.

11. He loves puzzles and gets tired of doing the same ones pretty fast. I love the excitement with which he puts the pieces together and complains before doing the complex ones saying "idu tumba traas kodattey" (this one troubles me a lot).

12. He brushes his teeth -- no toothpaste. And often drinks the water, much to my irritation. If i ask him to rinse and spit out the water, he loves to swallow it and giggle away.

13. Yesterday, he told me his cheeks were "soft", his hair was "nice". And then when I continued saying his chin was "soft" too, he told me it was because he shaved!!!!!

That, i think sums it up for now. And I love 13, so I'll stop there.

PS: I suddenly realised how "kicked" it feels to be proud of your child's achievements, even as I typed each one out. If you have a kid/s between 2 and 2.5 years and are feeling the same way, do share your pride with me, and I'll create another post to put it all together (just because I'm  in a good mood). Don't forget to put down the child's age, and do mention if it's a boy or girl. If you're a blogger and have already blogged about this (which I'm sure you all have ;-), do mail me a link and I'll see if I can add links too. Cheers!

Hallelujah and hooray -- a no-howl haircut

I did a little gig today sitting at the neighbourhood beauty parlour. Sonny Boy had his hair cut without much protest. Yipeee! I'm finally there. Now THIS is a milestone in my toddler's development.

All you moms whose kids just sat quiet at the first cut, congrats, you lucky bums!

But I had to wait these live long two years for him to understand that the lady with the smile and scissors wasn't going to cut off his ears or head. I couldn't figure out what his problem was at all. I don't think he could figure out what his problem was with having his hair cut. Except, that he didn't want it cut at all.

As it is, I take him to the parlour so rarely -- i wait till the hair grows into his ears and i can put little pigtails on his sideburns and a million other pigtails on his head. Not that he'll allow a rubberband anywhere near him. That's just how I measure my life -- in rubberbands, and not in coffee spoons.

I dreaded going to the parlour  because I felt like some Sumo wrestler. The sweet aunty at my parlour who consented to do the cut was always cheerful. But I pitied her because she was always so worried she would nick or cut him. And she always felt bad because he looked like a little red tomato, mid-cut, from all his protests and howling, with tears streaming down the face mixed with a sprinkling of hair.

The first time round, when i sat with him on my lap, he so freaked out and kicked and trashed about, five aunties at the parlour had to hold on to him. (I didn't have the guts to cut his hair at home. I tried showing him another kid who was getting his hair cut....but nothing really prepared him for his first.) I always take him at non rush-hour times (on week days) when there's no other customer around who'll be petrified at the sight or will perhaps, chide me for being bad mom, or him for being a bad boy.

With each cut, the strength with which he protested and the extent to which he protested came down gradually.
Even this morning, as I prepared him, he started whining and then quickly did his "I don't want a haircut" bawl. He even made a last-ditch attempt to tide over the situation by promising me he'll have his hair cut with grandpa. (Knowing how soft grandpa feels when he sees him cry, they'll probably run out of the men's salon even before the cut). Which is why he wanted top go with grandpa!!

After he was tucked into the little cape, he cried for a minute and then suddenly said "It doesn't hurt!" in such shock and surprise. Gawwwd it took him so many cuts to realise no one was killing him.

But honestly, was just thinking, how it must appear to the tiny li'l tot -- this whole unnecessary exercise of cutting hair -- with these large people looming over him, smiling and grinning, holding things he's forbidden from touching. Must be instilling some strange fears in them. Poor things.

But we've done it today. Hoooraaaay and yipeeeeee. Hopefully, he'll continue his "good boy" and "big boy" act at the next salon appointment too. Maybe next time, grandpa can take him to the men's salon.