The Voice Artist

D has been practicing various sounds for a few days now. When asked, she says she wants to hear all the sounds she can make. Fair, considering that she is indeed a drama queen and it is in the best interest of her profession to master various sounds and learn mimicry. 

Here’s her repertoire:
Little baby – the one that cries a lot
Baby – the one that has a cute voice but can’t talk
Big baby – A 3 year old
The Treasure Chest in a Polka Dotted Dress – D in her current state of attire

Having mastered various voices, she's graduated to sounds. With the loss of her two front teeth, she's realized another hidden talent - blowing out of the gap; whistling and enjoying the ‘music’ from her newly acquired aerophone. She now also produces the ‘hiss’ of a snake with a lisp, the ‘neigh’ of a tormented horse and bleats like a goat who’s caught cold.Quite a range eh?  But she's not the one to settle for mere accomplishments over voice and sound variations, she has quickly now moved on to cries and laughs.
She’ll cry like various animals including humans. Her favorite cry however is that of a six-year-old.  She also tries to imagine how I would have cried when I were her age. If what she thinks is indeed the real deal, I owe a lot of apologies to my beloved parents. Nobody can be made victims to such inhumane torture. Sorry ‘ma. Sorry ‘pa.

When it comes to the laughs,it's a different ballgame altogether. Apart from the usual suspects – the hyena, the coy bride, the shy child, the mean guys she also does impressions of herself – if she were ever to turn evil.
“Why are you practicing such a strange laugh?” I asked her today, not wanting to hear the answer.
“I am practicing for when I become evil Mamma”, she replied nonchalantly.  “This is how you will know I’ve become evil.”
“So you won’t have jutting teeth or protruding horns and a tongue sticking out?” I asked innocently.
“No. I won’t be ugly evil. I’ll even wear my tiara and my polka-dot-dress. I’ll just laugh like this.” She said.
“So what should I do when you turn evil, to be safe from your ways?”
“Just give me what I want”
“And if I don’t, will you eat me?” I asked her.
“Of course not, you are my mother.” She said.
“Then what will you do?”

She hadn’t thought through this.
“I’ll laugh louder, and if you still don’t give me…” she paused thinking of what she could possibly do to get her way. “… If you don’t give me even then, I’ll cry like you, when you were a baby.”
Touche, my child. Touche!

(Image Credit: Pixabay)

A Mother's Day to Remember

I am not great at preserving or taking care of stuff. I don't remember birthdays and I don't remember where I left my glasses. Maybe DD has inherited this awesome trait from me. She also doesn't find her stuff when we need it. She'll know where her sunscreen is, after we've bought a new one. But DD seems to remember dates. That's a huge achievement in the family because except for memorizing the dates of war in history classes, I need to be reminded about people's birthdays and anniversaries. I am sorry I didn't remember your birthday, but now you know why.

This is my sixth mother's day. Yes, time flies, yes, it doesn't seem real, yes DD has indeed grown up so fast! That's something I can't fight against, and am not going to, at this stage. It's a losing battle, she has to grow up and I am trying to come to terms with it. Trying being the keyword. But I don't want to burden you with my struggles and immense emotions. I want to share just the happy emotions here, and that's the fact that this year's mother's day was arguably the best. No offense to hubby who's tried to be super creative and make up for D's motor skills. This one was particularly awesome because not only did D know  about Mother's Day, she understood the concept of secrecy and kept her gift a secret from me. Of course her father was in on it. She had to tell someone!

Her class teacher was the one who taught them to keep it all a secret, and boy did she do a good job!
She did not give in to my incessant coaxing and pleas either. "My teacher said so..." If only she listened to half of what I say. 

Anyway, Sunday came and she did not need to be reminded.

She hugged me, gave me a slurpy kiss and wished me a Very Happy Mother's Day. 

All the kids may have written the exact same thing, but it still moved me to bits. 

She said she loves me a lot because I am kind and help her read and write. That I will be the happiest when she learns, that I am awesome because I write and tell her stories and she'll always love me. 
She also made me a poster with anime like characters of me and her, her love was clearly overflowing, and she also made me a really big bracelet. 

I cherish these. I don't know where her 3-D creations are right now, she makes so many everyday, but I was prudent enough to snap pictures. So they're there... somewhere, but I know I can see them whenever I want. They're in 2-D,  2 deep in my memory.

This is how we do it!

Taekwondo is a Korean martial arts form. Contrary to Kung fu - the martial art form from China, Taekwondo focuses more on kicks than on hand movements. 

DD and I do one of these two forms of martial arts. Watching DD, I am pretty confused which. We are both yellow belts now. Her yellow is a darker shade than mine, so she says its closer to orange and so she's more qualified than I am. 

A typical day at our martial arts class begins with us walking in - sorry my walking in and her prancing in. The day she isn't prancing, the master gets worried. "Is everything OK with you, you didn't twirl and announce your entrance."

We need to change into our uniforms - I take 2 mins, she takes, 7 minutes - 3 minutes to talk and report her day at school to the Master, 2 minutes to prance into the changing room and hear my lecture on the importance of 'hurrying up' to class and 2 more minutes to actually change. 

"Line up" the Master announces. DD doesn't walk to her spot, as you may have already guessed, she twirls up to it. 

There's a break after every move, because DD has some observation that she absolutely has to make, "Master, your pinky is sticking out", she'll correct the teacher or "One inch lower", she'll tell the whole class when we are doing our stretches. 

She uses her hands a lot, the tiniest person in class, that's the only way she can meet any of us half way. Her kicks start with plies. Her hand moves have a musical twirl to them and she keys up at the end of her forms and moves in an orchestral note. While the rest of us shout, "Haai!", she sings, "Haaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiii."

The Master is always amused with her, but DD does her forms and moves well, its just the background score that's not in line with the main performance. "She'll learn, she's only in kindergarten" the Master justifies.

I would have believed that, had a similar thing not happened in her tennis class. All ready positions were different plies. She dressed up in jingling skirts and flowing dresses for a tennis class. The coach would watch her twirl and spin and come to her position. "Give us a a big hit!" he'd say and she'd dance back and forth and hit the ball, well, just about touch it, and twirl and smile and sing and go back to her place. "Well, she's only 4." the coach would say. 

"So how was class today" Ady would ask and she'll say, "Good!"
"Did she dance?" Ady will turn to me and ask.
"Did the Sun rise from the East today?" I'll respond.

"This is how we do it, Mamma" she'll say when I try correcting her. The 'we' of course is just her.

I'm just going on a wild guess here, but I think, I think,  my daughter likes ballet and if there's a ballet-fu or a  ballet-do or a ballet- tennis, she'll ace it!

(Image Courtesy: khongkitwiriyachan/