AMUSING GRACE

My little girl always amuses me. Maybe all little girls amuse their mothers or rather maybe all mothers are amused by their little girls.

When she was a tiny tot, her school used to provide her lunch, so every day I used to ask her what she ate in class. Not knowing the names of the various dishes she used to describe them to me. Today we had a green coloured soup and some pieces of bread with some butter on it...today we had rice with a yellow coloured soup with a ball floating in it. Of course I had an Idea about the menu but I just loved to listen to her fantastic descriptions. The cutest one she came up with was: today we ate rice with this dal (lentil) which had lips like these and she puckered her lips.

Then she reached that stage when she wanted to know everything. So from morning to evening, it was quiz time. I always gave her an answer to all her questions, no matter what. One day she led the neighbours daughter (who is older than her) to me and said, "Amma (mom) she has a problem, can you help her, she cannot find some answers for her homework, and I've told her my mother knows everything."

Then there was this other time when she was having a conversation with a close friend of mine and she proudly announced: "My mother is a very good cooker." That was long ago, but my friend never let me forget that. Till date she calls me 'cooker'.

Just the other day she was lying beside me while I read a book, she fingered my face and said Amma, there is this strange design on your face. What does it look like honey, I asked? She said, "It looks like cream that forms on top of my glass of milk before I drink it." I smiled and told her that these designs were called wrinkles and they were for keeps.

LAUGHING POINT

My father loves a good laugh.


He does not like us to beat around the bush when we want to ask him for anything. A good one liner and a good laugh thats it.


One holiday when we came home for our summer break we found that dad had painted one wing of our house in bright yellow. Not having the heart to tell him how garish it was looking, I said, "Thanks dad, now we don't have to keep standing on our seats in the bus to spot our house when we come home as it is already staring at us." He laughed, and by the next holiday break it was no more yellow.

Another time he wanted to build a third flight of stairs on one of our wooden structures which my other siblings did not like, the moment he broached the topic with me, I said, "Good, henceforth you will also be called lord of the staircases." He laughed and dumped the idea.

In the earlier days bathrooms were never attached to or near the living quarters. Much to the frustration of the younger generation dad thought we should stick to this practice. After much deliberation I told dad that the younger generation spends most of its waking hours in the bathroom unlike his generation. He got his laugh, and we got our attached bathroom.