Dispoo(p)ted territory

"Will she? Won't she? Will she? Won't she?"

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"Back from work. Cooking kosha mangsho for dinner. What are you up to?" I excitedly texted Gundamma.

"Wait, Baby D is on the throne," she texted back.

Oh. Knowing how things work when Baby D is on the throne but not delivering, I know that this is not a good time to ping Gundamma with news of kosha mangsho or a rich and dry meat curry in the making. There is too much pressure for Baby D to deliver, pressure coming from the wrong end, of course.

I have often wondered questions like how many (wo)man-hours does someone spend in their lifetime trying to make their children poop? It's certainly a transferable skill (making someone deliver under pressure) that never gets mentioned in the vita. Couldn't someone develop an app called the poopometer or something that dings and notifies parents when their babies are about to poop? 

The pressure to perform, to deliver, every single day. And when you have, the endless questions about quality and quantity. It is only in a house with little children that I have seen so much pressure (excuse the pun) on potty, hagu, number two, call it what you may, every single day. Sometimes, the little one comes out of the restroom, forlorn and dejected and tells Gundamma, her mom, "Amma, no potty, looks like the bum is not working today." I laugh so hard, my stomach muscles ache so bad, my own delivery problems would have been solved.

Baby D continues to sit on the throne, stone-faced, unabashed, undefeated. It's literally a game of thrones. In between, when Gundamma is not looking, she tries to put anything within reach inside the pot: soaps, toys, dinner, wedding rings, cell phones, Nobel prizes. The mood of the entire household is determined by her performance every evening. Sometimes when I am around, I get to hear different levels of negotiation going on.

" Baby D, poop!" (Order)

" Baby D. Poooop." (Pleading)

" Baby D ... who wants a lollypop? Poop then." (Bribery)

"Poop!" (Anger and frustration)

" Baby D.... ammmaaa!" (Defeat)

"Baba Baby D, ektu hago dekhi!" I chime in Bangla. Baby D looks at me suspiciously.

Maybe Baby D doesn't want to deliver in the evenings. Maybe Baby D is asking for privacy and is sick of the boss constantly asking her to deliver (aren't we all?). 

I feel ignored. My kosha mangsho is getting cold. I wonder how I will handle it if I have children. It's easier to climb mountains than enter this dispoo(p)ted territory. 

Gundamma fondly calls Baby D a poopsicle sometimes. I'm more creative and indulgent in my names for her. I try to use my limited linguistic knowledge from various regions of India. Hagu ben (Gujarati). Hagomoni (Bengali). Kusumita Kumari (Tamil). Hagu Bai. Rani Hagumati. If Baby D grows up to read this post and kill me, I wouldn't blame her. 

As I get ready to attack my dinner, my phone dings with a smiley. I breathe a sigh of relief. Baby D has delivered, at least for today. Mission Impossible has finally become Mission Accomplished. A thousand queries just got saved from being posted on the online parents' forum about why their babies are not pooping.

sunshine   

Singing with devotion

Baby Kalyani’s family is one musical family. G practices Carnatic music when she cooks. Simultaneously, Baby D (Baby Kalyani’s little sister) sings "Quinkle Quinkle Little Star." And the seven-year old decides to teach me some music too.

Baby Kalyani: Sing. Shri Gananatha.

sunshine: Shri Gananatha.

Baby Kalyani: No, it is Natha.

sunshine: Natha.

Baby Kalyani: No, Natha.

sunshine: Forget it. Let me teach you a devotional song. Sing. Jay Jay Shiv Shankar.

Baby Kalyani: Jay Jay Shiv Shankar.

sunshine: Kaanta lage na kankar.

Baby Kalyani: Auntie, stop singing silly songs! Sing. Shri Gananatha. 

And we continue to sing in a loop all evening. 

sunshine

Little Accomplishments

If little children could write their CVs, what would those look like? At age three, Baby D’s would look like this:

1. Spearheaded an independent mission of running away from home by sneaking out from a tiny crack in the yard's wooden door and ending up on the streets.

2. Recalibrated and re-standardized security measures (both indoors and outdoors) by successfully managing to open the door of a car in motion, and managing to scare the living daylights out of my parents.

3. Negotiated my way through getting awesome deals and food treats by using my voice-power and by screaming my lungs out, rightfully earning the title of Baby D Bose. 

4. Experience with single-handed leading of missions like sneaking out a sharp knife from the drawer when no one was looking, and charging people in the room with full force, running towards them, knife in hand. This alone led the family to tighten security settings overnight, recheck drawer locks, improve their baby-proofing initiatives, and reinforce their faith in God because no one was hurt.

5. Motivated mommy to upgrade her collection of cosmetics by using the current ones for artwork on their walls and mirrors, also minimizing the need to hire interior decorators or buy expensive artwork in the process. 

6. Kept mommy fit and active with the sheer amount of running around after me.

7. Managed to mesmerize everyone with my charm and cuteness and melt their hearts despite doing all these things that I was never supposed to do.

sunshine

Breaking News!

In a bone-chilling and shocking incident that shook the entire G-household, the little one has been caught red-handed, causing havoc in the household once again. This is G's littler one, Baby D.

Baby D, the accused, is a 3-year old with doe eyes, the most innocent looks, and a shrill, Dolby Digital quality voice that makes her (in)famous in the crime circle as Baby D Bose. She is agile, nimble, and as light as a slightly overweight carry-on baggage. 

On Saturday early morning (7:30 am) that the whole world perceives as weekend and hence sleep in late, mommy and Aunt sunshine were chatting up in the kitchen, enjoying their early cuppa morning tea when the crime happened. Baby D was supposed to be happily sleeping in daddy's arms, but she quietly woke up, sneaked in a pillow under daddy's arms, and made her way to the master bathroom. Daddy happily continued to sleep and snore, mistaking the pillow to be Baby D. 

Heavily suspicious of the quiet and peace in the household, mommy went upstairs looking for Baby D at around 8 am. Daddy said, "Here she is sleeping", his eyes closed as he continue to believe that the pillow is Baby D. The entire bed cover and the floor were stained red. Mommy panicked. The trail of red stains continued to the master bathroom, where the accused was caught red-handed, like seriously, with hands painted red. Swabs of the red stain were quickly sent to the forensic lab and was reported to be a mixture of mommy's expensive collection of lipstick and nail polish. The crime area was quickly sealed, and Aunt sunshine assumed the role of a crime photographer and reporter. 

When interrogated about how daddy mistook the pillow for a baby, he refused to comment. The accused has been caught red-handed doing crime of similar magnitude many times, and has received multiple warnings from mommy, the chief law enforcing officer at home. The last warning was given to her exactly 30 hours ago, when the entire door was painted 50 Shades of Purple (ahem!). Mommy somehow managed to erase the stains, but is still mourning the loss of her expensive makeup. The accused refused to comment or plead guilty. When probed, she quickly went back to using the Dolby voice and gallons of tears as weapons. The jury has recommended installing a strong bathroom lock that is difficult to trample with. Last heard, everyone in the household was reported safe and recovering well from the incident. Aunt sunshine is still a little shaken though, and is seeking counseling. She seems to be repeating the same question in a loop- "Is this what it is like to have kids?" 

The accused has already attempted other crimes ever since, but of much lesser magnitude.

sunshine