One Turtle (TURTIEE!)
Two Bumble Bees (BUMBY!)
Three Hedgehogs (DOGGIE!)
Four Balloons (BEEEEEE!)
Five Rabbits (KHAAANAAAA!)
These are what Sassi calls each of these things in her favourite book of numbers. Go figure.
The request for Daal at the meal table at the mere sighting of anything remotely rice and insistence of stepping “Baayiiii” (outside) wearing “SOCKS!” which comprises of both socks and shoes, is endearing but takes a very different turn when creativity comes into play.
Lifting the carpet to look for doggie or putting “Ponky” (see image below) on the sofa to have “Khaana” (food) is just two of many daily stories and skits that emerge out of our household.
We have been in Islamabad for the past few days for both mine and F’s work. Where I had some very productive (and exciting) meetings, there were some cancellations that compelled the extremely non-outdoorsy me to take my child to F-9 Park. Being the hermit that I am who gets a headache at the mere mention of sun, I hardly ever take my child out to the lawn in my own house let alone the park but her recent expedition to Hilal Park in Karachi (see image below) and the excitement that ensued made me realise how much she loves it.
This made me take her to F-9 the other day. I packed our bags with a book for her and a book for me, a jam and butter in paratha “Popli” as we call it in our house, more commonly known as a “paratha roll”, three bottles of water and a well rested kid.
Bent upon walking all the way on the uneven cobbled walkway, she almost ran most of the way, often toppling over but popping right up and marching straight ahead without batting an eyelid screaming “BISS, BISSSSS!” at the top of her lungs, beckoning me to keep reading Bismillah.
As if telling me I am forever going to keep jumping into fire, you just keep the prayers rolling.
Why do I have a feeling this child will traumatise me with bungee jumping and skydiving one day?
Just the thoughts gives me a near seizure.
Soon we found a favourite bench and since we know On, Off, Bandd (Close) Khol (Open)and Andar (Inside) Baahar (Outside) only, we chose to shriek “ONNNNNN!” As our choice of instruction to be placed on the bench. Soon we were all set for perhaps the best set of portraits this year so far.
However the love for having portraits taken and posing surprisingly ended way too soon than I was expecting given the vanity of this child of mine who will happily pose for upto fifteen minutes straight (that’s almost an entire day in toddler speak) in front of the mirror or in snapchat filters that sport the dog with the wagging tongue or “Anna” (Ainak) or glasses, the forever undying love for spectacles or glasses. She wanted to go exploring, running down steeper parts of the ground, giggling giddily as she gave in to gravity and then stopping to smell (read: destroy despite my screaming SOFT HANDS! SOFT HANDS! in the background) the flowers.
once we were done running around in circles and hexagons the urge to get our hands on our brand new Mr. Men books emerged.
Nestled next to me she very nicely opened her lift-the-flap book of Mr. Men, laughing her head off every time she came across Mr. Nosey yelping “NOSE!” Even though this lasted hardly for 10 minutes or so, it was more than enough for me to catch my breath and marvel at the Mercurial Ms. Bari; the unfathomable persona that ranges from a mad rush of a little monkey hopping around to this proper little miss sitting down, thumbing through her book so knowingly as if she knows everything it says. Who knows? Maybe she does.
Equally pensive was this looking into distance, half tired but still rearing to go, unleashed into the open-est space we ever saw
Soon tired and all done with the day we wanted Baba. As if a genie from the lamp, we got his call to meet us at the deli of his choice. With her signature “Huddie” (Huggie), I walked towards the parking lot with my backpack on my back and a toddler dangling from my neck, counting upto 180 as the driver said he will be there in three minutes. He was there in sixty seconds yet it was still leaps and bounds ahead of the numbers we had ever heard. Thus the joyous shrieks and mumbling, spotting familiar numbers and repeating after (ONE in twenty-one and FIVE in forty-five etc.).
The following day we tried again with baba and a frisbee and two balls.
Ended up too lethargic after lunch and the frisbee was rubbish too. Just won’t glide right. Gave it away to a bunch of kids who asked for it and returned without playing as much but heart brimming of happiness running amok for however little time we did.
