I think it was the thunder that woke me up this morning; either that or the rain pounding down outside. Often I just snuggle down back to sleep again but this morning I felt alone and wanted mummy. I called her from where I was lying and she called back to me and told me to come in.
Mummy and daddy's room is just a little way away from mine but when you're half asleep and feeling fed up, it seems like a mile away. I wasn't best pleased that mummy hadn't come in to see me and I was even less pleased when, stumbling into their room with my eyes still half-clogged with sleep, who should I see lying on the bed with mummy and daddy but Mark.
He'd beaten me to it again.
I don't know how long he'd been there but he was wide awake and on his tummy, plum bang in the middle of mummy and daddy.
"Move Mark" I said.
"It's OK, you come on as well" said mummy. But I couldn't easily come on as well because Mark was where I wanted to be and he showed absolutely no signs of wanting to move.
I know he's still a baby and too young to understand that there's a pecking order, but really he's not so young that he can't see who's the bigger of the two of us. In the end, daddy moved, which sort of solved the problem because mummy then lay across the bed with Mark on one side and me on the other. Then I moved to where Mark was and he in turn started to climb all over me, trying to reach first the phone and then the tissue paper. I don't know what it is about Mark and tissue paper but he can't seem to get enough of it; tissue-obsessive if you ask me.
Daddy went to the bathroom and we settled into a brief and uneasy truce before mummy called one of the maids and Mark was whisked away to go and play with them. I think she was still sleepy and I was certainly sleepy whereas Mark just wanted to pull and poke and crawl and gurgle. As soon as he disappeared we fell instantly asleep.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Paints and stickers
I did some more dib and dab yesterday. Well it was more dab and dab actually, or splat and splat if I'm honest. First of all I covered my hands in paint and then, SPLAT! I splatted them down onto some paper; lots of little hand-prints from yours truly. Daddy's going to take it and give it to grandad when he goes to England later in the week. That will be the second piece of artwork I've given him; next time I'm going to charge.
After I'd finished painting, I dipped the brush in the goldfish tank. I didn't tell mummy I'd done this and she only noticed when she and daddy were having their tea (eating fish as it turned out). "Motts, did you dip your brush in the fish tank?" mummy asked. "No," I said, but it was pretty obvious I'd done so as the water was even cloudier than usual and the fish were pulling strange faces in the way that only paint-poisoned fish can do. Ibia cleaned them out straight away and when I looked this morning they were still alive, so it can't have done them too much harm.
Later, after we'd all eaten, I found an activity book which mummy and daddy had bought me at the weekend and I started taking the stickers out to stick on mummy's hand. It's pretty boring to just stick stickers where you're supposed to and so I stick them wherever I like, which normally tends to be where daddy doesn't like: on the fridge, on the back of his car seats, on his books. After I'd stickered mummy up nicely, I turned my attention to daddy and by the time it was my bed-time I'd completely covered one of his hands with small stickers: smileys, bees, frogs, sunshines and the like.
Mark had gone up to bed by this stage but he's too young for stickers anyway. In a worrying development though, he has started to crawl a lot more and he's now getting pretty fast. He nearly crawled himself off the settee tonight and mummy only just caught him before he nose-dived onto the marble floor. I do my best to keep an eye on him but you know what babies are like; sometimes they seem to be on a mission of self harm: any hard surface, sharp corner or dangerous object and they'll either bump into it or try to put it in their mouth. Sometimes you marvel at how mankind has advanced this far even and not snuffed itself out long ago. I shudder to think how many cavemen children must have choked to death on small rocks and mammoth bones.
After I'd finished painting, I dipped the brush in the goldfish tank. I didn't tell mummy I'd done this and she only noticed when she and daddy were having their tea (eating fish as it turned out). "Motts, did you dip your brush in the fish tank?" mummy asked. "No," I said, but it was pretty obvious I'd done so as the water was even cloudier than usual and the fish were pulling strange faces in the way that only paint-poisoned fish can do. Ibia cleaned them out straight away and when I looked this morning they were still alive, so it can't have done them too much harm.
Later, after we'd all eaten, I found an activity book which mummy and daddy had bought me at the weekend and I started taking the stickers out to stick on mummy's hand. It's pretty boring to just stick stickers where you're supposed to and so I stick them wherever I like, which normally tends to be where daddy doesn't like: on the fridge, on the back of his car seats, on his books. After I'd stickered mummy up nicely, I turned my attention to daddy and by the time it was my bed-time I'd completely covered one of his hands with small stickers: smileys, bees, frogs, sunshines and the like.
Mark had gone up to bed by this stage but he's too young for stickers anyway. In a worrying development though, he has started to crawl a lot more and he's now getting pretty fast. He nearly crawled himself off the settee tonight and mummy only just caught him before he nose-dived onto the marble floor. I do my best to keep an eye on him but you know what babies are like; sometimes they seem to be on a mission of self harm: any hard surface, sharp corner or dangerous object and they'll either bump into it or try to put it in their mouth. Sometimes you marvel at how mankind has advanced this far even and not snuffed itself out long ago. I shudder to think how many cavemen children must have choked to death on small rocks and mammoth bones.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Presents
Daddy's friends came over on Saturday and they brought Mark and me presents. I got a bed-time story book for daddy to read to me from, and Mark got some stacking blocks. He's a bit too young for those yet so I played with them instead.
We had spoken to grandma on Friday night because Auntie Emma had just gone into hospital to have her baby and mummy and daddy were catching up on news. Grandma seemed quite surprised that it was gone ten o'clock at night and I was still up, but then what's the point of me going to bed early? All I do is wriggle around and cause a fuss and that's just no fun for anyone then. Grandma also asked if daddy read me stories and I think I said "No" because he doesn't really. Mind you, I have the attention span of a goldfish most times and when he does start to read, I normally drift off or try to turn the pages before he's finished what he's reading.
But in any event, this weekend seems to have been geared towards me getting more quality reading time from daddy. First off, there was the grandma conversation, then on Saturday morning he sat down and read, The Cat in The Hat and The Cat in the Hat Comes Back by Dr Seuss, then he ordered those two pieces of furniture to get all my bits and pieces onto. Finally, like I say, I got another reading book from daddy's friend, so I suppose you could say it's been a pretty OK weekend. One of these days I might even start to treat my books with a little care and attention, but for the moment I actually prefer to scribble on and rip the pages rather than hear what's written on them.
We had spoken to grandma on Friday night because Auntie Emma had just gone into hospital to have her baby and mummy and daddy were catching up on news. Grandma seemed quite surprised that it was gone ten o'clock at night and I was still up, but then what's the point of me going to bed early? All I do is wriggle around and cause a fuss and that's just no fun for anyone then. Grandma also asked if daddy read me stories and I think I said "No" because he doesn't really. Mind you, I have the attention span of a goldfish most times and when he does start to read, I normally drift off or try to turn the pages before he's finished what he's reading.
But in any event, this weekend seems to have been geared towards me getting more quality reading time from daddy. First off, there was the grandma conversation, then on Saturday morning he sat down and read, The Cat in The Hat and The Cat in the Hat Comes Back by Dr Seuss, then he ordered those two pieces of furniture to get all my bits and pieces onto. Finally, like I say, I got another reading book from daddy's friend, so I suppose you could say it's been a pretty OK weekend. One of these days I might even start to treat my books with a little care and attention, but for the moment I actually prefer to scribble on and rip the pages rather than hear what's written on them.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Operating the DVD player
I know how the DVD player works. First of all you have to make sure your fingers are really sticky. Then you ask mummy or daddy to open the stupid cupboard without a handle so that you can find the DVDs you want. Mummy and daddy have a television stand which has storage for DVDs built into the sides. Maybe I'll ask daddy to take a photograph and then you'll be able to see what I mean. Only these cupboards don't have handles and so you have to thump the corners in order to open the doors. It's a stupid idea really.
Anyway, once mummy or daddy have opened the cupboard (the right hand side is my one, the left is theirs), you then chuck out all the DVDs, spread them across the floor and then settle on one. Then you change your mind and settle on another one.
Ensuring that your fingers are still sticky - and if they're not, you have to re-sticky-them-up with a lollipop or fruits - you then press the eject button and drop the DVD into the tray. Scraping it along the floor first is optional. I've scraped most of my DVDs which means that they get stuck mid-way through. Sometimes they move on but others just stay stuck and have to be ejected. Daddy has already thrown out my copies of Madagascar, Over The Hedge, Tom and Jerry and something else. He better buy me some new ones to scratch.
Anyway, that's pretty much it. Plop the DVD in the drawer, press play and you're away. Last night, when daddy was watching a James Bond film, I casually walked over to the DVD player and pressed the eject button. One minute there's Daniel Craig just about to get fruity with his leading lady, the next minute there's a blank screen and daddy fuming. He said I was a naughty girl and I cried. That night, in revenge, I didn't say my prayers. Mummy taught me my prayers and so now, every night, I say:
Dear Lord Jesus.
Thank you for everything.
I love you.
Good night.
See you in the morning.
Then I blow two kisses and go to sleep. Only last night, because I was crying and daddy shouted at me, I didn't say my prayers. But Jesus knows that I still love him and that I'm grateful for everything.
That's it from me for thisweek. Daddy still hasn't got internet connection at home. It was looking promising yesterday because we had a cable guy come round. But daddy didn't want cable and so we're back to square one. Pity, I want to go onto YouTube and watch Winnie The Pooh again.
Anyway, once mummy or daddy have opened the cupboard (the right hand side is my one, the left is theirs), you then chuck out all the DVDs, spread them across the floor and then settle on one. Then you change your mind and settle on another one.
Ensuring that your fingers are still sticky - and if they're not, you have to re-sticky-them-up with a lollipop or fruits - you then press the eject button and drop the DVD into the tray. Scraping it along the floor first is optional. I've scraped most of my DVDs which means that they get stuck mid-way through. Sometimes they move on but others just stay stuck and have to be ejected. Daddy has already thrown out my copies of Madagascar, Over The Hedge, Tom and Jerry and something else. He better buy me some new ones to scratch.
Anyway, that's pretty much it. Plop the DVD in the drawer, press play and you're away. Last night, when daddy was watching a James Bond film, I casually walked over to the DVD player and pressed the eject button. One minute there's Daniel Craig just about to get fruity with his leading lady, the next minute there's a blank screen and daddy fuming. He said I was a naughty girl and I cried. That night, in revenge, I didn't say my prayers. Mummy taught me my prayers and so now, every night, I say:
Dear Lord Jesus.
Thank you for everything.
I love you.
Good night.
See you in the morning.
Then I blow two kisses and go to sleep. Only last night, because I was crying and daddy shouted at me, I didn't say my prayers. But Jesus knows that I still love him and that I'm grateful for everything.
That's it from me for thisweek. Daddy still hasn't got internet connection at home. It was looking promising yesterday because we had a cable guy come round. But daddy didn't want cable and so we're back to square one. Pity, I want to go onto YouTube and watch Winnie The Pooh again.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
School
I want to tell you a bit about my school. I go to nursery school every day between 11am and 1pm. There are loads of schools in Bangalore and we seemed to visit most of those in the area where we lived before mummy and daddy settled on one that a) didn't have a dangerous electricity sub-station next to the grounds b) was not on a main road c) showed evidence of having been cleaned d) had "fit" teachers. I don't see that the last point is particularly relevant but daddy seemed particularly insistent, even after mummy had poked him in the eye.
Now that we've moved, school is a bit of a trek for me, but our driver and one of the maids drop me into the school and then two hours later they pick me up again. I've been going to this school for getting on for a year now. First I was in playschool but now I've moved up to nursery and I'm learning numbers and letters. Our day starts with the National Anthem and we all stand up straight with our arms by our sides. I think patriotism is a good thing. It never hurts to have a bit of National pride and there are those - like daddy for instance - who would argue that it might not harm school children in Britain to have a bit of national pride too. Then again, if India is a culturally divided nation, Britain is probably even more so. In my class I think I'm the only Christian (whatever that means) and I think the rest are Hindus. We might have a couple of Muslim children but I can't be sure about that.
So anyway, we are learning numbers. Earlier this week we did the number three and daddy was trying to teach me the letter S. He said it looked like a curly snake but I can't see it somehow. Where are the scales, the eyes, the forked tongue? I don't know, it looks like a piece of string shaped like the letter S to me. I just smiled when daddy was telling me about the snake thing. Next he'll be telling me that the letter O looks like an apple or an orange or some other equally improbable fruit.
Mummy gives me a little tiffin box which I take with me to school. She normally fills it with fruits or biscuits, things like that. We're supposed to take different kinds of snacks on different days - so dried fruit on Monday, biscuits on Tuesday and so on. I don't think we've ever toed that particular line though; mummy pretty much does what she pleases and I decide, when we have our snack break at school, whether I'm going to eat what she's given me or give it to somebody else. What am I saying? I'm Indian. I should be selling it to somebody else.
Today we were supposed to go on a field trip to a garden but our driver has the day off to take his pregnant wife for a check-up at the hospital. Mummy and daddy are not too keen on me travelling by auto and so I'm skiving off today. It would have been nice though, to see a garden in Bangalore. So much of the city is paved and concreted and so many of the green areas are covered in rubbish that it would have made a pleasant change to go somewhere decent.
Anyway, that's my school. I'll tell you more about some of the specific activities when we do something exciting.
PS - Sorry about Mark butting in yesterday. He sneaked down onto the laptop and then we had a power cut and so I couldn't respond. It's all lies.
Now that we've moved, school is a bit of a trek for me, but our driver and one of the maids drop me into the school and then two hours later they pick me up again. I've been going to this school for getting on for a year now. First I was in playschool but now I've moved up to nursery and I'm learning numbers and letters. Our day starts with the National Anthem and we all stand up straight with our arms by our sides. I think patriotism is a good thing. It never hurts to have a bit of National pride and there are those - like daddy for instance - who would argue that it might not harm school children in Britain to have a bit of national pride too. Then again, if India is a culturally divided nation, Britain is probably even more so. In my class I think I'm the only Christian (whatever that means) and I think the rest are Hindus. We might have a couple of Muslim children but I can't be sure about that.
So anyway, we are learning numbers. Earlier this week we did the number three and daddy was trying to teach me the letter S. He said it looked like a curly snake but I can't see it somehow. Where are the scales, the eyes, the forked tongue? I don't know, it looks like a piece of string shaped like the letter S to me. I just smiled when daddy was telling me about the snake thing. Next he'll be telling me that the letter O looks like an apple or an orange or some other equally improbable fruit.
Mummy gives me a little tiffin box which I take with me to school. She normally fills it with fruits or biscuits, things like that. We're supposed to take different kinds of snacks on different days - so dried fruit on Monday, biscuits on Tuesday and so on. I don't think we've ever toed that particular line though; mummy pretty much does what she pleases and I decide, when we have our snack break at school, whether I'm going to eat what she's given me or give it to somebody else. What am I saying? I'm Indian. I should be selling it to somebody else.
Today we were supposed to go on a field trip to a garden but our driver has the day off to take his pregnant wife for a check-up at the hospital. Mummy and daddy are not too keen on me travelling by auto and so I'm skiving off today. It would have been nice though, to see a garden in Bangalore. So much of the city is paved and concreted and so many of the green areas are covered in rubbish that it would have made a pleasant change to go somewhere decent.
Anyway, that's my school. I'll tell you more about some of the specific activities when we do something exciting.
PS - Sorry about Mark butting in yesterday. He sneaked down onto the laptop and then we had a power cut and so I couldn't respond. It's all lies.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The younger brother replies
Before we go any further let me just clarify a few things which my sister seems to have got upside down.
1. If brothers can be "irritating in the extreme" so can older sisters, especially when they continually take whatever it is I lay my hands on. There is nothing more annoying than having spent five minutes crawling towards a particularly attractive looking piece of tissue paper or wooden block, only to have that thing suddenly whipped away by your older sister. And I can tell you now, substituting whatever it was I'd grabbed for a toy which she thinks I'll prefer, just does not cut it sister.
2. I do shit myself, it's true. Baby's do that. But let me tell you, I would far prefer to do that, experience that nice warm sticky feeling and then get myself all nice and clean, than sit like a moron at the coffee table, banging crayons on a bad representation of Bloat. If you think I would have enjoyed watching you do that, you're mistaken.
3. You're right, it's "Aye-eeeeeeeeeeee-sshhhhh" with an AYE and not with an AIE but it's stronger than "No you don't! Stay back! Get away!" That's spelt with six Es and three Hs - "Aye-eeeeee-sshhh" - see the difference? What I said was "Aye-eeeeeeeeeeee-sshhhhh" which means, "if you value your Winnie The Pooh DVDs and you don't want me to dribble on them, scratch them, throw them around the room and then throw up on them, don't take one more step." Anyway, looks like she got the message. As for not being scared of me, put your earrings back in and then come and say that again.
4. Swinging and sliding. Thanks for the loan of the swing sister. Yes, it has to be said, I like it; I like it a lot. And when I get bigger I'm going to go sliding as well and then we'll have great fun. As for stuffing fingers in my mouth, try it some day, they taste great.
5. Daddy got another gas bottle today so order is restored in the house. As for me not having discovered TV, don't kid yourself Motts. I can see it's on but really, if you expect me to maintain interest when all you watch is Winnie The Pooh and Finding Nemo, you've got another think coming. Put on Fashion TV, MTV or a bit of Premier League Football. Jeepers, it's no wonder I stuff my fingers in my mouth and shit myself whenever you have the TV controls.
Mark
xxx
1. If brothers can be "irritating in the extreme" so can older sisters, especially when they continually take whatever it is I lay my hands on. There is nothing more annoying than having spent five minutes crawling towards a particularly attractive looking piece of tissue paper or wooden block, only to have that thing suddenly whipped away by your older sister. And I can tell you now, substituting whatever it was I'd grabbed for a toy which she thinks I'll prefer, just does not cut it sister.
2. I do shit myself, it's true. Baby's do that. But let me tell you, I would far prefer to do that, experience that nice warm sticky feeling and then get myself all nice and clean, than sit like a moron at the coffee table, banging crayons on a bad representation of Bloat. If you think I would have enjoyed watching you do that, you're mistaken.
3. You're right, it's "Aye-eeeeeeeeeeee-sshhhhh" with an AYE and not with an AIE but it's stronger than "No you don't! Stay back! Get away!" That's spelt with six Es and three Hs - "Aye-eeeeee-sshhh" - see the difference? What I said was "Aye-eeeeeeeeeeee-sshhhhh" which means, "if you value your Winnie The Pooh DVDs and you don't want me to dribble on them, scratch them, throw them around the room and then throw up on them, don't take one more step." Anyway, looks like she got the message. As for not being scared of me, put your earrings back in and then come and say that again.
4. Swinging and sliding. Thanks for the loan of the swing sister. Yes, it has to be said, I like it; I like it a lot. And when I get bigger I'm going to go sliding as well and then we'll have great fun. As for stuffing fingers in my mouth, try it some day, they taste great.
5. Daddy got another gas bottle today so order is restored in the house. As for me not having discovered TV, don't kid yourself Motts. I can see it's on but really, if you expect me to maintain interest when all you watch is Winnie The Pooh and Finding Nemo, you've got another think coming. Put on Fashion TV, MTV or a bit of Premier League Football. Jeepers, it's no wonder I stuff my fingers in my mouth and shit myself whenever you have the TV controls.
Mark
xxx
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
No gas
Cooking gas that is. There's plenty of gas coming from Mark and me one way or the other, but if they know a way of harnessing that, mummy and daddy are keeping it to themselves. Mummy wasn't very happy today because our maid Ibia didn't tell her that the gas had run out. By the time mummy found out, it was too late to get a new bottle and so we had nothing to cook on for the rest of the day.
In the afternoon we drove to daddy's office so that he could look for some furniture for my bedroom. We went to Home Store, or Home Shop or something like that, but they didn't have anything suitable and so we came home. Because we had no gas, mummy and daddy had to order food from outside and it took ages to turn up. I was alright because Abbi Ibia had somehow managed to prepare me something in the microwave which she shoved into my mouth in little pieces as I was watching TV.
I don't know what it is about mealtimes but food just doesn't seem to taste the same if it's not accompanied by a turned-on television. Even though I watch the same DVDs over and over and over again, I never get bored of them and I just sit there chewing while Ibia pops little balls of rice into my mouth. It must be a bit like watching a bird feed its young.
Mark hasn't discovered TV yet. He just sits strapped in his little baby seat and our other maid - Abbi Malme - does the same for him. Mummy says he's a pretty good eater but then I expect I was when I was strapped to a chair and couldn't move anywhere. These days I know better and if I don't like something I won't eat it, no matter what mummy tries to do to make me. Occasionally she gets really mad and threatens to throw me out of the house. That's when I get scared and sit down, but apart from that I do exactly as I please.
I hope daddy's going to get me some new DVDs soon. A lot of the ones we have get stuck and freeze on a particular frame. Daddy says it's because I scrape them across the floor, or put sticky fingers on them, or scratch them just by being careless. Well what does he expect for goodness sake, I'm three years old! Three year olds do things like that daddy. Just think yourself lucky that it's Tom and Jerry and Barney and Ethelbert that are getting the treatment and not one of your Hundred and One Boring Minutes on DVD volume 2764, DVD. I'll grow out of this phase in a few years, just as Mark is entering it.
In the afternoon we drove to daddy's office so that he could look for some furniture for my bedroom. We went to Home Store, or Home Shop or something like that, but they didn't have anything suitable and so we came home. Because we had no gas, mummy and daddy had to order food from outside and it took ages to turn up. I was alright because Abbi Ibia had somehow managed to prepare me something in the microwave which she shoved into my mouth in little pieces as I was watching TV.
I don't know what it is about mealtimes but food just doesn't seem to taste the same if it's not accompanied by a turned-on television. Even though I watch the same DVDs over and over and over again, I never get bored of them and I just sit there chewing while Ibia pops little balls of rice into my mouth. It must be a bit like watching a bird feed its young.
Mark hasn't discovered TV yet. He just sits strapped in his little baby seat and our other maid - Abbi Malme - does the same for him. Mummy says he's a pretty good eater but then I expect I was when I was strapped to a chair and couldn't move anywhere. These days I know better and if I don't like something I won't eat it, no matter what mummy tries to do to make me. Occasionally she gets really mad and threatens to throw me out of the house. That's when I get scared and sit down, but apart from that I do exactly as I please.
I hope daddy's going to get me some new DVDs soon. A lot of the ones we have get stuck and freeze on a particular frame. Daddy says it's because I scrape them across the floor, or put sticky fingers on them, or scratch them just by being careless. Well what does he expect for goodness sake, I'm three years old! Three year olds do things like that daddy. Just think yourself lucky that it's Tom and Jerry and Barney and Ethelbert that are getting the treatment and not one of your Hundred and One Boring Minutes on DVD volume 2764, DVD. I'll grow out of this phase in a few years, just as Mark is entering it.
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