Tales from the pot

Okay, so this is not exactly the best subject for a comeback post, but given my abysmal rate of posting this year, I figure at least it's a post, right? D, this is for you :-)

I have on occasion asked friends whose kids found all things potty hilarious, whether it's a boy thing, seeing that Moppet didn't seem to find it particularly funny. They assured me it wasn't, and that I only needed to bide my time. Yes, you have my permission to call me an idiot. Of all the things to worry about, I just had to worry about her not being age appropriately amused by potty.

Anyway, even that worry didn't last for long. These days she has developed a rather sophisticated (if indeed, this word can be used together with toilet jokes) sense of potty-humour.

For example:

Me: Are you done yet, Moppet?
Moppet (examining the contents of the pot): Not yet. I've only done a leetle baby potty. Now I need to do a mama potty, a papa potty, and a sister potty.

Or:

Moppet (making a sad face): Mama, my potty is very sad.
Me (against my better judgement): Why is your potty sad, Moppet?
Moppet: Because he fell in the water and lost his best friend Susu.

These little punchlines are usually followed by a 2 second pause during which she scans my face for the appropriate disgusted expression, and then bursts into peals of excited laughter. I think she's going to have a real talent for stinky pjs when she grows up.

And as for Munch, I already know I don't need to worry about him. Everytime he farts or burps he giggles and looks at me to make sure I appreciate the wonderful sounds he's produced. He's even been known to clap his hands for a particularly loud burp. And his father is genuinely proud.

I think my original hypothesis was right. It IS a boy thing.

You're One!

It's been an eventful year, hasn't it, my darling?

Starting with the day you arrived, it's been a such a full, rich, exciting year. We've had more holidays this year than in the last 3 put together. We've moved homes and countries, and you've accumulated more stamps in your passport than you have teeth! You've taken it all with your characteristic equanimity. I could learn a thing or two from you.

With your sister, I've often complained that I never quite realised how quickly she went from being a tiny babe who fit in the crook of my arm to a sassy little girl who wants to do everything by herself. I've tried not to make that same mistake with you. I've savoured every moment of this year with you, even those moments that were sad. Yes there were some of those, and plenty of tiring, exasperating moments too, and I have savoured them all. I can tell you this though - there have been no boring moments this year!

Watching you grow into the happy, friendly, fearless, enthusiastic little fellow you are today has been immensely fulfilling. You make me so proud, baby - I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you how much.

As you step into your second year, I look forward to exploring life with you. Exploring, examining, and experimenting in that calm yet intensely curious way that you have.

Happy birthday, Munch!

All my love, always,
Mama.

All about Munch

Munch is 11 months old today and I've probably done 5 posts on him, if that. It's not my fault, just blame it on the second child syndrome!

Seriously though, I'm enjoying his babyhood so much more than I did Moppet's. Not that I didn't enjoy Moppet as a baby, but there was a lot more worry and self-doubt at the time. With Moppet, I'm finding her current phase much more enchanting than her baby phase. The things she says and does surprise and delight me every time. You'd think I'd have learnt to expect it by now, but she still takes my breath away with all her chattering.

But this post is about Munch and what a delicious little fellow he's turning out to be. Sadly, it appears that the whole 'good boy' impression was just an act. Having deceived us all into thinking that he was going to be a quiet, well-behaved young man, he sprouted horns overnight and turned into a babbling, walking, dancing, hair pulling, mischief mongering little imp.

He took his first unaided steps at nine and half months and now does what I call the zombie walk - arms outstretched for balance, he teeters and totters (particularly around corners), but manages to stay upright the whole distance. He's practically stopped crawling now, and no longer needs support to pull himself up. He goes from sitting to crouching to standing and walking all by himself. And now that he's figured out that when he walks he has his hands free to carry stuff, things are getting ferreted away and turning up in the most unexpected places.

Oh and he dances! It cracks us up every time. He toddles up to the music system and then jigs up and down in time to the beat, waving his arms like a windmill with a supersized grin on his face.

He babbles a lot - not just a a few repeated syllables, but a stream of made up words that sound so familiar that I wonder why I can't understand what he's

saying. Like when I go in to get him after his nap, he'll be standing in his crib and will say something that sounds like 'Aathaka?' on seeing me. And the tone screams 'what took you so long?' Or the way he puts his fist behind his ear and goes 'Aa-uh?' in exactly the same tone as I say hello on the phone. He does say a few recognisable words - Papa, Mama, and Ka (car) being the most oft heard.

He attempts to eat everything he comes across, earning for himself from his father the nickname MatterEaterLad, who is apparently some obscure comic book superhero. He has ingested some sort of insect (I only managed to extract the wings from his mouth so I have no idea what sort), assorted varieties of leaves and grass, mud and gravel, crayons (which I realised only when he threw up bits of it later), and plenty of paper. A nickname well-earned.

He's learning to stand up for himself against Moppet. Her days of being queen bee are numbered. If she tries to take something away from him, he hangs on for dear life and screams in her face. He pulls her hair every chance he gets. He bites, mostly out of affection, but sometimes in frustration, a habit I'm trying to nip (heh heh) in the bud. To her credit, Moppet rarely hits back. Having been the recipient of some of his pinches and bites, I know that they really hurt. But though she may scream or push him away, so far I've never seen her hit or poke or pinch him back.

On the whole, he's a most satisfactory baby. He's soft and cuddly and affectionate. Friendly, sociable and a complete clown. Total paisa vasool. Even though he's done his growing up as fast as Moppet, faster in some cases, he's still very much a baby, unlike his sister who always felt like an old soul to me.

Kaala tikka, my darling boy, and happy 11 month birthday!