The girls have started playing rough and tumble games. It is absolutely adorable to watch, especially because they are both girls. They’ve got their ponytails, their earrings, their frocks (sometimes), and they’re small and thin, so it’s about as ridiculous as it can get. They lock their fingers together and push against each other with all their might, reeling around the kitchen like miniature drunken soldiers, sometimes giggling to boot.
Another favourite is for one of them – usually Tara – to crawl on the ground on all fours, while Mrini climbs on top and rides her like a horse!
Other times, one girl will somehow be flat on her tummy on the bed, and the other girl sits astride her back, while the giggling, wriggling girl underneath does her best to throw off or escape from under the one on top. It sounds vulgar, I know, but it’s just hilarious!
The other day, Tara was squatting on the floor in the froggy position. You’d best use your imagination, because words might only confuse the picture, but let me try to describe it all the same. She balanced on her hands and the balls of her feet, with her arms straight and her knees bent. Got it? No? Maybe you should try it.
Anyway, having done this, she was doing froggy hops – kicking her legs up and settling down again, exactly the way frogs do. It wasn’t anything new – she must have picked it up as part of a nursery rhyme or something at school, months ago. Quite unremarkable. Except, with one quite unremarkable jump, her heels reached the vertical, hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then descended on the other side of her head! It was a sort of a combination between a handspring and a somersault. She sat up looking dazed, not sure whether to laugh or cry, while Amit and me roared with laughter and clapped enthusiastically. Unfortunately, she could not be persuaded to repeat the stunt, not even for the benefit of the camera.
Meanwhile, their conversations are no less entertaining..
Mrini and Tara went to their room, took colouring books and a few sketch pens out of their cupboard, and sat down at their tables. They coloured away very sweetly for 15-20 minutes, running up to us every few minutes to show us what they’d done. Tara, for the first time ever, copied the colours of the model onto the blank outline that she was supposed to colour. (Garbled sentence, but you do know what I mean, right?)
Anyway, Mrini was colouring a crab blue (the original was muddy brown and yellow).
Mrini: This crab is happy.
Mrini: Because that crab is this crab’s friend.
Tara: I got hurrrrrrrrt. Say Uffffffff.
Tara: No! Say Uffffffffffffff
Tara: Yes. Now it’s ok.
Tara’s hasn’t got the concept of “nobody”. She prefers “anybody”.
Me: Who wants to tell me a story?
Tara: Anybody is not going to tell you a story.
Me: Who’s going to tidy up this place?
Tara: Not annnnnybody!
Mrini has fallen in love with two concepts:
Mrini: Tara, come here! Come here Tara! I have an idea!
Tara comes and listens while Mrini explains her idea.
Mrini: Is it a good idea, Tara?
Mrini: I’ll tell you a secret?
Proceeds to whisper something unintelligible in my ear.
Mrini: That is a big secret, ok? Don’t tell anybody.
Proceeds to whisper in Amit’s and/or Tara’s ear.
Me: Can I tell Amit and/or Tara?
Mrini: No! That is a big secret!
Yesterday, Tara discovered the joy of love. She hugged me, squeezed me, and said quickly two or three times, “I love my mummy.”
After that it was Amit’s turn. Typically, his turn lasted all evening and ran into at least 20 repetitions. (No fair!)
It wasn’t the first time either of the kids told us they love us. The script that is part of our goodnight routine is, “I love you verrrrrrrrrry much,” – naturally accompanied by a set number and sequence of kisses and hugs. But Tara’s demo yesterday was different because it was not part of any routine, the line was scripted by her (not one we’d used or taught her), and it was completely spontaneous.
What a wonderful feeling – we must be doing something right.