Dosa, Boys, Chicken, and I’m Not Asking You

It seemed like we were on track to leave for school at the usual hour this morning. Then came a minor disaster. The bread turned out to be completely mouldy. Really, this cannot be my fault. It was a pretty fresh packet, we only opened it last evening. Anyhow, there were, of course, no fresh chappatis in the house (Monday morning, remember; no domestic help over the weekend). And my options for the kids’ tiffin consist pretty much of either bread-and-jam or roti-and-jam. At least there was jam. There was even readymade atta in the fridge. But I am SO not the sort of mom who sets about making chappatis for my kids early in the morning.

So what could I do?

I could do dosa.

Yeah, I can’t do chappatis, but I can do dosa. Specially when “doing” dosa starts with opening a packet of batter…

So I did dosa.

You try squeezing making dosas into the time set aside for slapping jam on two slices of bread. It’s no dice. The dosas took way more time, and of course we were running late. I handed the kids their clothes and Mrini put everything on back to front. Tara, only the shirt. Got that straightened out and somehow got out of the house only five minutes late. If the traffic was kind, we’d still make it on time.

But traffic was not kind – not at all. It was about twice as bad as usual. Do ALL the worms have to come crawling out of the woodwork on Monday morning?

As the kids were getting into the car, Mrini managed to squash her finger between the car door and the car next door. (I didn’t have anything to do with that either.) Tears ensued and had to be wiped away, hurriedly. At last we were on our way.

After a few minutes of silence, Tara asked Mrini solicitously: Mrini, now you ok?

Sniffles from Mrini.

Tara: Mrini you hurt your finger, now you ok?

After a bit, Mrini said she was ok. But she wasn’t in talk mode. Tara, surprisingly enough, was; usually she’s the silent-er one in the car.

Tara: Mrini, did you see the Mall?
Mrini is silent.
Me: I saw the Mall.
Tara (curtly): I’m asking Mrini. Mrini, did you see the Mall?
Mrini still silent.
Tara: Mama, Mrini not talking.
Me: Mrini, Tara is asking you, did you see the Mall?
Mrini remains silent. Long pause. Then: I not talking. I seeing the cars.

—————

Yesterday we had taken the girls out for lunch and were at the restaurant waiting to be served. After we had waited for quite a long time, Mrini almost embarrassed me by saying loudly: Mama, I want my CHICKEN. Where’s my CHICKEN?

“Almost” embarrassed me, because she’s still young enough for this to be cute (or so I think, anyway). But honestly! Anyone would think we don’t feed them at home. (Just for the record, we do.)

————–
Well, it could be worse. This other brick was dropped when there was no-one but us around to hear. We drove past a playground where a lot of boys were playing cricket (or something like it). Tara immediately goes: Oooh! Booooooys!

I know they start younger these days, but hang on, these girls aren’t even three yet!

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