Little things you do

 Dear Finch,

I love how you make sure to keep a toe or a finger or your arm or your shin in contact with some part of my body to feel the security that I'm still around.

I love how you explain everything that you want either by gesturing, crying, or just lunging toward me. 

I love how Yogurt feels like God-given ambrosia to you.

I love how Turkeys seem to be your favorite animals and that the mere mention of those weird birds brings a smile to your face.

I love how you've made this little game out of handing trinkets to me and then asking for them back.

I love how in the last one week you decided to learn everything - walking, saying Haa (Yes) & Na (No), eating with a spoon on your own. As if you needed to meet quarter end targets.

I love how you have a heirarchy of people you want - Mumma, Pappa, Baa, Beckett, and then the lady who helps us.

I love tickling you with my stubble. You love getting tickled.

The past 5 odd days have been some of the happiest of my life. And I have you to thank for them.

I love you 3000.

 

Sticks & stones may break my bones

Both Missus and I subscribe to the Bezosian philosphy of letting the kids tinker around. I'm paranoid about road safety (especially because the danger there comes from others). But I'm reasonably intrepid in my tolerance for getting injured while playing or indulging curiosity. 

As a result, Beckett is really good at monkey bars. She is obsessed with skipping 2 and then 3 and then eventually just jumping from the first to the last bar. She is further obsessed with turning every other apparatus on the playground into a monkey bar.

So one fine July evening, while using a zipline as a monkey bar, her hand slipped and she fell. About 10 feet. On a tan bark grounding. I was not there but Missus knew immediately that it was not a regular fall.  

Dislocated Humerus, broken at three places. Writhing in pain Beckett. Inconsolable Missus. Yours truly was questionably calm throughout the whole thing and just wanted to confirm that there was no head injury.

Missed Calls, 911, ER, pain killer drip, anaesthesia, lots of anxiety, surgery, three pins in the elbow, a pink cast and two days in the hospital later Beckett was back home. In pain, but home.

Was incredibly grateful to get the right treatment in time. Was even more grateful that my Mom was here and taking care of Finch and that we have family & friends who we can lean on near by. It would've been very difficult otherwise. 

The cast is now off and it'll be a few months before Beckett is doing monkey bars again. 

I don't know how this whole incident will affect her dauntlessness. I hope it doesn't. Life shouldn't be lived worrying or being scared of something.

Lots to catch up on

Finch turned a year old a week and a day ago. And I've missed documenting almost everything that has happened since October.

She is the happiest baby I've ever seen and reciprocates our smiles as if on cue.

She doesn't crawl or move on her haunches yet but, stands when someone makes her stand. She's either slothful or has mesmerizing control over her parents to get them to do her motile bidding.

She has 4 teeth already and has had them since she was 8 months old.

She babbles. A lot.

I sing my riyaaz paltas to her in as disciplined a manner as possible.

She is really loud. And she gets angry when she doesn't get what she wants, very angry.

Finch loves to take a bath. She hates her face having to deal with water and soap and she absolutely hates the after-bath ritual of drying up, getting moisturized, and putting her clothes on.

She loves Beckett (and Beckett her), but she doesn't like Beckett lifting her or trying to lift her.

Finch displays patience and kindness much beyond her 12 months and a week. 

The trust she puts in me when she rests her head on my shoulder to sleep without any care in the world, the way her face lights up when she sees me after a long day of being away, how she makes a lunge toward me to lift her in my arms is terrifyingly overwhelming. It is one of the greatest joys of my life.

Beckett and Finch are two very different people. Beckett is the quintessential, gregarious, connection-seeking, flitting and frolicking Gemini. Finch, on the other hand, even though it is too early to tell yet, can be a pensive, brooding, yet elated and beatific Cancerian.

And while both of them belong to the future and not to either one of us, Beckett is Mumma's girl; Finch takes after yours truly.