While driving the kids to and from school, and also at sundry other times of day, I’m treated to absolutely delightful snippets of conversation and logic. Why should I have to enjoy these all on my own?
M: Mrini is a good girl.
T: Panda also good girl.
Pause. Long pause.
M: Panda is a boy!
T: No, Panda is a good girl.
M (beginning to wail): Mama, Panda is not a girl, Panda is a boy!
T: Panda is a big boy.
T: Mrini, where do you stay?
Mrini correctly rattles off our full address.
M: Tara, where do you stay?
T: I won’t tell you. I’m sleeping.
M: I want to bite the bus.
T: You can’t bite the bus.
M: Mama, I want to bite the bus.
T: If you bite the bus, it will hurt. (It will get hurt, she means.)
M: I want to bite the car
Me: You can’t bite the car, it’s my car.
M: I want to bite the dog.
Me: If you bite the dog, it will bite you back.
M (in shock): Then I’ll get hurt!
I was popping cough-drops for several days after my bout of flu. The kids asked what they were, so I said “medicine”. Mrini decided that “medicine” looks nice. This is what ensued.
M: I’m not well.
Me: Really? What’s wrong?
M: I have fever.
Me: No, you don’t have fever.
M: I have a rash.
Me: Yes, it will clear up in a few days.
M: I want to go to the doctor. I want medicine.
M sobbing with full force and speaking through her sobs, an effect that is awfully cute: Mama, I stopped crying.
We took the kids out for lunch on Sunday. Perhaps they found the food a wee bit spicy. On Monday, morning, after going potty:
M: My bum is hurting
Me: Ok. It will get ok soon.
M: Mama, my bum is hurting.
T: Minnie, your bum is hurting?
T: Ok, come. I’ll give it kissie.
T: I want my hard. (The gutli, aathi, or kernel of the mango.)
M: No I want hard!
Me: Whoever finishes their food first will get the hard.
M: Tara finished.
T: No, not yet. You give Mini the hard. I’ll eat the mango. Mini eat the hard.
M: I want the hard. I want the aathi.
T: You want the igloo?
M: I not want igloo. This is not igloo. This is the gutli.