A couple we know is considering adopting a child - they have a biological child, and wish to complete the family with an adopted girl child.
Stwabbit broke this news to me.
“What does adoption mean?” I ask her.
“Oh, when people have children and are unable to take care of them, they give the children away to people who can. That’s adoption”, she replies, in a matter-of-fact manner. “Just like in the movie Juno.”
Profound wisdom.
Stwabbit’s teachers are a frustrated lot. Here’s what they had to say to the Missus, at the parent-teacher meeting…
1. She is EXTREMELY talkative. Though she sits on the first bench, next to the quietest boy in the class, that does not deter her from yapping continuously. The ‘quietest boy in the class’ is no longer so - she has taught him the joys of yapping, too!
2. She loves “object talk”. She delivers a speech to the entire class, every hour…
3. She talks to the Disney characters on her pencil-box. She also makes all her classmates greet her pencil-box every day!
4. She’s been giving fashion tips to her teachers, expecting them to be meticulous in the way they dress…
5. The teachers thought she’d control her yapping if she were made monitor of the class, so they gave her the coveted post for a fortnight… in gross abuse of the position, she would go to every desk and chat with her friends. That put a hole in the theory!
I feel bad at having missed the session - I’m going to make it a point to be there, the next time around!
When I reached home in the afternoon, yesterday, Stwabbit was taking a nap. Since it was time for her to be woken up, I went up to her and cuddled her. She stirred. She doesn’t like me cuddling her, especially on hot afternoons.
“Let me cuddle you”, I said. “Soon, you’ll get married and go away!”
Without opening an eye, she replied, “That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to get married and have children. I want to live in peace!”
On a recent visit to the zoo with Stwabbit and her friends, we saw some black bucks, among other animals. The Missus passed a comment: “Look! That’s what Salman Khan had shot!”
That night, Stwabbit had a question - “Why did Salman Khan (her favourite actor) shoot the black bucks?”
“For fun”, replied the Missus. “Some people hunt animals just for fun!”
“It’s not nice to kill harmless animals!” exclaimed Stwabbit.
The Missus, being a staunch vegetarian, saw a window of opportunity to propogate her preferences.
“Well, don’t you do the same when you kill harmless hens and fish, just to eat them?!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Stwabbit replied, “They are food! Besides, hens are not harmless - they pecked at Mr. Meddle (ref: Enid Blyton) when he tried to gather eggs!”
The conversation ended there, as the Missus couldn’t come up with a befitting reply.
A while later, Stwabbit made another profound observation.
“So, Salman Khan is a bad man. He’s no longer my favourite actor.”
“Then, who’s your favourite actor, now?” I asked.
“Hmm… I think it’s going to be Shahrukh Khan. Unless he’s been hunting harmless animals, too…!”
It’s 6:30 in the morning, and we’re all late in rising. Stwabbit has no intentions of going to school, and insists on stayng in bed.
The Missus tries to cajole her.
“Did you like the sandwiches in your tiffin yesterday?” she asks.
“Hmm… yes.”
“So, do you know what you’re going to have for tiffin today?”
“Yes.”
“What?” asks the Missus, a bit surprised.
“Nothing”, comes the reply.
“Why nothing?!!”
“Because I’m not going to school today. That’s why!!!”
It’s mid-May, and the heat is unbearable. I’ve just returned from an appointment with a client, and have travelled 46 kms. in the sweltering heat on my motorcycle. I’m back home, now, and have had a light lunch. I decide to take a nap.
I’m lying face down on the bed, the fan spinning at full speed above me. My hand dangles from the side of the bed and I find it a rather comfortable position. I drift off to sleep…
Suddenly, I sense some discomfort. I realise my dangling hand is no longer dangling - it’s resting on the bed. I adjust it to dangle again. Before I know it, it’s back on the bed! I open my eyes to see Stwabbit, a little more than a year old then, staring into my face with a mischievous grin. I am irritated - I let my hand dangle again, turn my face away and doze off again. Stwabbit dutifully puts my hand back on the bed. I look up and give her a strong glare. My glare is met with a toothless smile.
All my exhaustion seeps out. I break into a smile. She turns and crawls away, looking back playfully…
At times, the Missus and yours truly often try to mess with Stwabbit’s mind by telling her she has to choose whether she wants to be a boy or a girl. Last night, once the lights were out, we posed the same question to her. We told her that we had to inform her school about what she finally decides to be.
“I want to be a girl!” says Stwabbit.
“Why?” I ask. “Why don’t you want to be a boy, like your Papa?”
“I WANT TO BE A GIRL!” she reiterates, “I don’t want to have to wash my baby’s potty! That’s what Papa’s are for!”
