Beckett: Not my problem!
Me: When will it be your problem?
Beckett: When I’m a dolt!
Me: Heh??
Beckett: A Dolt! Like You.
Me (miffed): What?
Beckett: A Dolt! Grown up! Like you!
Me: Adult? Ahh..
Beckett: Yes.
Me: (So much life wisdom in this exchange)
I have a sand clock on my table that Finch finds amusing. Turning it over is one of her consistent requests whenever she comes to my den to bug me while I'm working. I always oblige and then both of us, wide-eyed, look at the grains of sand falling down, one by one, gradually forming concentric circles; she marveling at the precision of the patterns being created by these insignificant particles; me philosophizing what their falling signifies.
Today, she tried to grab the sand clock and it fell over. No damage done. But the pedantic father in me wanted to use this as a teaching moment. So I picked up the sand clock and asked her,
'તુટી જાય, બધી રેતી ઢોળાઇ જાય, તો આપણે શું કરવાનું?' (What are we to do if it breaks, and the sand falls all over?). I was hoping she would say I'll be careful or something to that effect.
Instead, the two & half year old critter, just look back at me and said, કાંઈ 'નઈ પપ્પા, It's Okay કહેવાનું!' (Nothing Pappa, we should say It's Okay!).
Naturally, my jaw drop was a sight to behold. Of course my 80s-socialist-India conditioned brain had difficulty fathoming the simplicity of this American-abundance-as-default conditioned response.
Today's kids I Tell You!
Finch: 'Keh Keh!'
Me: 'Heh?'
Finch: 'Kung Ung!'
Me: '?'
Finch: 'Keh Keh!'
Me: 'Kung Ung?'
Finch (now laughing): 'Keh Keh!'
Me (getting the drift): 'Kung Ung!'
Finch (laughing all through the rest of the conversation): 'Kung Ung!'
Me (putting my CAT logical reasoning skills to work): 'Keh Keh!'
Finch (Pappa figured it out. He's a genius!): 'Kung Ung!'
Me (now laughing along): 'Keh Keh!'
Finch: 'Keh Keh!'
Me: 'Kung Ung!'
Finch: 'Keh Keh!'
Me: 'Kung Ung!'
Finch: 'Keh Keh!'
Me: 'Kung Ung!'
(Both of us rolling on the floor laughing uncontrollably)
Can't make this shit up.
Watching Beckett learn to play Table Tennis over the past 6-7 odd months has been fascinating, inspiring, and deeply satisfying. Missus was a national-level Table Tennis player back in India and I've played it on & off, mainly dictated by access to a Table, since I was 9.
Seeing her go from being barely able to make contact between paddle & ball, to consistently putting the ball on the table, to going toe to toe with Missus & me on rallies, to now learning how to chop & spin, has been lots of fun.
While she goes for regular coaching, I thoroughly enjoy playing the game and transferring some of what I know to her. I'm surprisingly not an overbearing father or teacher when it comes to Table Tennis. Also, much of what I talk to her is about the stuff between the two ears and not about the technique or skill of the game.
One of the first things I did when we moved to our current home was to get the Table. Preetesh and one of his friends, my eternal gratitude to both of them, helped assemble it, and after a month or so of Missus & I playing regularly, it had been stoutly ignored for a little over a year till Beckett started playing. For the past 6 odd months, it has been an investment that has repaid itself multiple times over for the entire family - given that today we had Finch play for the first time (standing on the chair, with Missus holding her hand & paddle).
Finch is now fully potty trained. Achievement unlocked.
She called me Gulab Jamun a few weeks ago. I thought she was making a reference to the increasing girth of my waist and increasing elasticity of my face, but then realized that this was a moniker of affection for everyone she is comfortable hugging.
She also scratches the living daylights out of anyone close to her when her mood is running afoul & trimming her nails is a herculean 3 person task, as challenging as getting her to gulp down medicine.
