Outdated Drivel.

Most of this post is about Anjali today.  Obviously,  I love her more than Arun.  DUH.  I mean, the poor kid is walking around in shredded pants while his sister wears the finest silks and ribbons.  If he hasn't figured it out by now, he will soon enough. Of course, one's blog is a firm testament to one's life.  Nothing one-sided about it.

Sorry, kid.  Hit the road.  The blog hath spoken.

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We had an excellent week last week.  We took advantage of the nice weather by doing things OUTSIDE.  We capped the week off by going to the zoo.  On Sunday, we went to the KC Reptile Show where we saw all sorts of creepy-crawlies.  Holy crap, we saw the biggest tarantula I have ever seen in real life.  Its body was bigger than a newborn kitten. (Click here if you have the stomach for it. It is a Goliath Birdeater tarantula and looks pretty haggard because it was wild-caught.)

Both kids left the show crying  - Arun because we weren't buying a new pet and Anjali because she kept asking "When is the reptile show going to start?? When?"   While Arun came to understand that no pets would be purchased that day, Anjali never quite grasped that we would not be watching a reptile-laden TV show there.

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I always have a notebook around.  I love scribbling ideas, notes to myself and the little things the kids jabber.  I am so glad that I have this notebook - these kids are always saying some cute (to me, at least) and if I did not jot quotes down quickly, they would be lost forever.  I often take a few minutes before or after workouts at the gym to scribble things to myself.  Sometimes,  I will be a stoplight, frantically jotting something down before the light turns. Most of my dribblings make it nowhere, but it is nice to just get them out of my scrambled brains.
 
Anyway, the Quotable Anjali and all of her Owen Meany ramblings has been in full-force lately.  She goes to sleep talking, she talks throughout the night in her sleep, wakes up talking and keeps on.....you guessed it, TALKING.  My parents speak of another little pixie who chattered incessantly throughout 1973 and then never stopped, but my parents?  Are liars.  I am sure of it.  Anyway, what could be more fun than a hyper-verbal 2.5 year old?  Not much.  Sure, she can speak in grammatically correct sentences, but often, her logic is pretty twisted.  Hilarity ensues.

The best part of her talky-talky is the reports I get back from school. I can still hardly get a word out of Arun about school, but Anjali?  Gets all Katie Couric on my ass when I ask.  I get full reports on who was on vacation, who was sick, which light bulbs were burned out and needed to be changed, who played with who at recess, which songs were song, who cried, who did not cry and usually a little book report on which story was read that day.

Recently, Anjali conquered the L sound - as in puh-LEASE, bah-LUE, suh-LEEP.  It is the first "skill" in which Anjali has completely hop-scotched over Arun.  And he did notice.  Now?  He has been consciously trying to pronounce them correctly as well.  As if he will not be outsmarted by his little sister.  And so it begins.

Speaking of Arun - the little twit has had the sheer audacity to turn into a little BOY who is fairly thoughtful towards his sister and willing to help me out around the house.  He also challenges me to the Wii on a daily basis and is consistently getting better and better at the games.  Before I know it, he will be kicking my ass.  He is also asking very thoughtful questions, I love his curiosity and try to cater to this whim as much as possible.  Even when that means I am sitting in the Costco food court explaining to him precisely how he digests his hotdog and he exclaims for all to hear "And then I POOP whatever I didn't USE ?!?!" 

My mom says I had kids just so they would entertain me.

She is right.

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Many of the toy animals around here have the name of the animal printed on the bottom.  The ones that do not?  Generally say "Made in China"

Arun: Mama, why are ALL the toys made in China?

This led to an interesting discussion on cheap material and shipping costs (I left out the implications of cheap labor and the use of children.  Will save that heartbreak for another day.  Sigh.)  Later, I hear Arun explaining the process to Anjali and I'll be damned if he did not do a pretty good job.

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The other night, we turned off all of the lights and went to bed.  Except for Anjali who loitered by the bedside.
Anjali: Mama?
Me: Yes.
Anjali: I am SAD.
Me: Come to bed and I will hold you.

She comes to bed and we snuggle close.
Anjali: Mama?
Me: Yes.
Anjali: I am still not HAPPY because I don't want to go to SLEEP.
Me: You and me both, sweetie. 

(One of the downsides to co-sleeping is that I have to pummel my night-owl tendencies into submission in order to get my kids down at a somewhat decent hour.)

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Someone in our house is on the cusp of potty-training.  She has a full array of underwear.  Fancy, frilly, pretty underwear that COST MORE THAN MY OWN UNDERWEAR.

Anjali: Mama, I'm so SORRY.  I have a poopy DIAPER.  Do you totally SMELL MY POOPY BUTT?

(She did not look sorry in the least.  And yes, I totally smelled it.)

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Anjali: Mama, I don't think I LOVE you ANYMORE because we don't have BLUEBERRY yogurt.

(Baby girl, you think you hate me now?  Just wait until you are a teenager.)


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I was having a particularly bad day a few weeks back picking them up at school and shooing them up the stairs and out the door.  I mentioned that I was sick and that we needed to hurry.

Anjali: Mama, I think YOU NEED to take a REST.


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Anjali: I need a new DIAPER. Even, there is one DOWNSTAIRS and NOBODY is USING it.

(She was right on all counts.)

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I spy Anjali lying motionless on the floor.

Anjali: I'm PRETENDING I am DEAD SKELETON.


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Anjali: Mama,   I need HELP. I have a dirty NOSE and I am having ISSUES.

(Yes, she uses present progressive a lot.  I blame her South Indian genes.)

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Anjali: Mama, you are the best MAMA in the WHOLE TOWN.

(I wonder for how long I can continue to fool her.)

Oh, whatever! Here you go.  Another snap of Arun.  See? I do like him.  Sorta.