Am torn!

"Don't leave me here, there and everywhere, Amma...."
said Sonny boy, between sobs, to me and the Acha when we called him last night.



As some of you might be knowing, have again been left high and dry by my maid. As in the one who I'd got to stay with Sonny boy while I earned jam for the family.
This was in March. We got a new person for the housework bit, but we had no luck with the stay-at-home companion to Sonny boy bit. Luckily my Mom was with us,so we didn't face an immediate problem.

Then, towards the end of Mar, the Acha's grandmother passed away. We went to Cochin for the funeral and came back, leaving Sonny boy with the grandparents in Cochin for about 2 weeks, till the Acha went back for the 16th day rites. A joyful re-union took place with the Acha at Cochin and with me at B'lore the next day. ( I couldn't go- I barely managed to get my leave approved for the funeral!!!)

Since the summer vacation was on, we took recourse to the summer camps that mushroomed all over. But there were none that would keep the kiddies till about 7, all of them shut shop by 6. (Don't the people runing these places know that office timings are till 6 and it takes about an hour in B'lore traffic to reach ANYWHERE?)
Luckily there was one near my office that would keep 'em till 8. Darned expensive, but then beggars can't be choosers. And after all the jam WAS coming in, wasn't it? April passed.

In May, my cousin was getting married, and we went off to my place in Kannur. We came back, leaving Sonny boy with my Mom. Where we planned to leave him for another 2weeks, in which time we hoped to find a maid.

Sonny boy has stayed happily with his Ammamma before, so I didn't foresee a problem. But the maximum Sonny boy has ever stayed away from us in the past is 2 weeks. And he'd already had his quota of separation in Cochin.
Another 2 weeks so soon after the first was a little tough to digest for a wee little 5 year old.

In the past whenever we had left him away from us, he wouldn't come to the phone. He wouldn't talk to us at all. Ammamma would have to coax him to come and talk. But these days, he would talk. And he used to recriminate bitterly with us.
'You don't love me.'
'Why can't you come to pick me up?'
'You left me alone here.'
'I want you to come and pick me up! TODAY!'


In between somehow, he managed to hide his despair. But then, yesterday, when we told him that we were coming to pick him up this weekend, the flood gates broke. He started sobbing.
"Don't leave me here and there and everywhere...."
"I love you. You don't love me...."

And when I told him softly, that we'd left him with his Ammamma because there wouldn't be anyone to look after him in Bangalore, he cried

"Why can't YOU look after me?"




Why?
Why can't I look after him?
Because I have to go to office and earn money.
For what?
So that we can save towards a nice house we can buy, where we can stay in after Sonny boy has grown his life in summer camps and day cares.
Because we need to earn the money to pay the daycares and the summer camps which will spend time with him, and entertain him.
Because we need the money to pay a good maid to stay with him, in place of his parents.
Because we need the big car and the eating out and the umpteen toys and the books and the gadgets.


Why o why do we have to make such difficult choices in life?

Unrealistic targets, and unachievable too.

Sigh! The school Sonny boy HAS gotten admission to seemed to us on second and third thoughts to be VERY far, esp. taking into consideration the fact that we didn't find any suitable alternate housing arrangements nearby. So when another school called us for the interview, we decided to give it a shot, esp. since the said school was right in the middle of civilisation and quite accessible from both home as well as both our offices.

At the school, Sonny boy found himself a friend who was more than willing to acquiesce to his demanding frolic, and the two had a rollicking time running up the corridors and playing run-and-jump-and-sit-on-chairs while we parents waited impatiently.
The husband wisely kept glowering at and ordering Sonny boy to sit beside him, but Sonny boy paid no heed, and the Amma, for once, thought it the lesser of two evils to have the son jumping around quietly from a distance, rather than fidgeting in a chair adjacent. Alas! It was her undoing.

The trio got called to the Principal's room in their turn. The room was as big as a Princi's room ought to be, and Sonny boy was delighted. He sat in the chair between Acha and Amma, and took in his surroundings with interest.And then, while Acha was responding to something the Princi had asked, Sonny boy espied a row of chairs near the window.

AHA!!!!
Chairs! puhlenty of them! Run-and-jump-and-sittable ones...!!!!

I really don't know how it happened, but the next second, Sonny boy was out of the chair between us and onto the chair near the window.
The Acha and I gaped, then were horrified. The Amma went after him and brought him back to his chair. To his credit (?) the Princi didn't bat an eyelid, he continued looking at his -or rather our- file before him.
And then while the Amma was tackling a question on who would look after Sonny boy while both of us were at work, Sonny boy tried sidling out on my side of the chairs. He had spied the many shields on top of the shelves. Quite worth a a second look, they were. Sonny boy certainly thought so too. Luckily, the Amma was not as absent minded as the Acha and caught him before more damage was done.

"I only want to look... "plaintively began Sonny boy.
"NO looking," sternly stated Amma.
"But..."
Glare from the Amma.

The Princi cleared his throat and said that would be quite fine, and thanked us.
The Acha and I, given our marching orders, gathered up Sonny boy and marched out of the room.
I do not think that school is going to call us. Sigh! Unruly, disruptive, distracted kid with inept parents who have no sense of discipline.....you think he would have written any worse?

The Acha berated Sonny boy soundly on the way to the car and told him that he was a very bad boy. The Amma added her two bits. Out came the lower lip and trembled for a few seconds... Sonny boy looked suitably chastened for a few minutes, then he was back to normal again.

On seeing a nearby toyshop,
"Acha you'll buy me toy?"
"NO," thundered the Acha. "You have not been a good boy. NO toy!"
"I be good boy, Acha."
"No. I am very angry. You be a good boy, listening to what Acha and Amma tell you for a whole week, and then, we'll think about a toy."
"One week?"
"7 days, Sonny boy, till Saturday."
"7 days?"
"7 days."
"Ok, Acha, I be good boy for 7 days."

After 5 minutes of sitting quietly in the back seat.
" Acha, 7 days over? "

My Happy Burttey

Today is Sonny boy's b'day.
Four years ago, it was on this morn, that he was handed into my arms. And I looked down at him. And felt the love welling up inside...
Sonny boy, may the good God above (with whom you hold long conversations at times) bless you with all the things that matter, my sweetheart- to you and to us.
May you continue to be a cheerful, delightful, lovable little darling, my son.

over heard during bedtime

Sonny boy: "Acha...!"
No news from the Acha.
Sonny boy: "Acha....!
Still no stirring from the Acha.
Acha.. I love you!"
A resigned Acha from somewhere , "Ok. Ok, Sonny boy, what do you want?"
The Amma was convulsed. The father and son know each other so well.

Help- Sonny boy has homework!

Last year, Sonny boy, had only a Colouring Book, in which he had to colour some 2-3 pages every week. This year, he has advanced. He has
Cursive Writing
Writing Numbers
Interactive Mathematics and
General Knowledge.

And yesterday was his first instalment of homework in the M2 classes.
Pages 1-4 of GK and Pages 1-8 of IM. Which again had to be done over the course of a week.

We sailed through the GK, which was basically colouring of the longer, shorter, taller, bigger, smaller objects. This year, I decided that unlike last year, (where he did the colouring mostly on his own with minimal moulding from me, and thus made his drawings quite uniquely different from what they were supposed to be, and earned a 'colour more neatly' remark from his teacher) I would help the little fingers grasp the pencil better, till he was able to cope more 'neatly' on his own.

And then we came to Interactive Maths. Math has been my bete noire in all my school years, (till I scored highest in class, for the first and only time, in my 9th std, under the guidance of an able, simply amazing teacher- the best I have ever had in Math) So I have been hoping that here, his genes take after his Achha who is definitely better at numbers than I am.

Well, Sonny boy had been pretty ok with his numbers, tho' there were the times when he would count, ' vun, two, fore, seben, TEN!'
And then there was the time when I taught him to count on his fingers, starting with the thumb at one, and when he kept missing six, I told him that the little finger (on the second hand) stood for six.
So now he goes ,
"one two, three, four SIX, " because
"that ish little finger, Amma. Little finger is SIX!"
Logic and his Amma certainly have their sway over Sonny boy.

So yesterday we were doing the numbers, and we finished with One and came to Two. On that page, were two beautifully coloured butterflies. So I let Sonny boy look his fill, and then I asked, "What is this, Sonny boy?" pointing at the number Two.
Pat came the reply.
"Butterflies!"
Yeah, but what is this? Jabbing by the Amma at the number Two.
"Lotsh of butterflies!"

Help! I think my son takes after me in numbers!



And then, in GK, we were at tall and short, where the pictures were of a tall cone icecream and a short and squat cup of icecream.
"What is this?" Pointing at the cone.
"Taaallll."
"Good. What is this?" Pointing at the cup.
"Ffffaat!

What will he be when he grows up?

Read about that poor 15 yr old kid in Trichy who performed a caesarean operation on a 20 yr old girl, and was horrified at the parents who actually supervised it.

It made me wonder- how ambitious can a parent be for their child? To what extent can they push their children? And when does all this start? In the womb? Would this mother have been reading medical books during her pregnancy?

I know that during my pregnancy, I made it a point to do lots of things in the hope that Sonny boy would imbibe... (ala the legendaryAbhimanyu, who heard his father Arjun speak about the chakravyuh, even while his mother dropped off to sleep...) - listen to good music, read good books, not laze around, think good thoughts... I really tried to do all this, in between puking, throughout the day- from month 3 to month 9.
My MIL told me that reading the Ramayanam was tantamount to getting a good offspring, so I did. I faithfully read C. Rajagopalachari's ramayan and thoroughly enjoyed it too. Tho' till date, I haven't told her this. ;-) (Supposedly if you can't read all, if you just read the sundarakandam is also enough)

Maybe all that will yield result, but when, is the moot question. Right now, nothing seems to hold Sonny boy. Sonny boy's attention span really has me worried.
I guess it is kind of OK if he is an average kid. (After all, I am no Einstein, nor is his Acha. I rejoice in the fact that Einstein was considered a dud at school!)
Like any parent, I too would like to see my son reach a higher level of life than me, however, Jack of all trades, master of none is what my son excels at being.


His attention begins to stray 5 minutes after we sit down to some learn-and-play.
I laugh about it later with his Acha, that a boy who otherwise has to be forced to go to sleep, only has to hold his crayon in his little fingers, for the yawns to come in an army.
When we go to the park, Sonny boy sits for a minute on the swings, while he eyes the slides. He trots off to slide, when he espies the see-saw. Off again to see-, but before the -saw, he is off to his cycle, and then again to that gymnast rod.. it goes on...

I mean, how can a child (or its anxious mother) know what he likes, if he doesn't even experience it to the full? Ditto for all else. He is like the proverbial butterfly, sipping from this flower and that, generally buzzing around... I see other children close to his age who at least manage to stay with one toy to finish whatever they are doing. Or at least, they have a favourite toy. Not so Sonny boy.

His nature is evident from the fact that when I tell him to go play with his toys, he goes and tumbles ALL the toys from his toy basket onto the floor. Just in case a few get caught in the corners and don't fall out, he pokes them out! He delights in seeing them strewn all around. PlayDoh is out of bounds in my house now, cos he makes little balls out of it and then runs his toy cars over it to see the tyre marks. Very creative and innovative you might say. NOT, says the mother who had a tough time trying to clean the carpet of the sticky dough. The carpet still has bits of fur rolled in dough!
The ONLY toy he has liked more than the rest is Thomas. He spends some minutes with the tracks and Salty and Percy and the others.. laying the tracks out, connecting them...
And he also loves anything to do with water.

But yeah, sometimes I wonder if I watched any (too many?) kittens while pregnant. Sonny boy simply loves string! A rope, a belt, a tape.. anything that he can wind and loop and tie and knot and use to connect... He can really spend an hour doing intricate, puzzling winds and turns..tying the chairs up, looping the table to the chair, the chair to the sofa, tying up one of our legs in the process. He can also simply walk around the dining table, looking back every now and then, at the way the string follows on behind him.

The Acha and I are totally blank as to what future brillinace this is a sign of. Any of you who drop in here- any ideas?

O Laila...!

Yesterday was a friend's daughter's second B'day. And Sonny boy was cordially invited, with family.

She had come over for Sonny Boy's b'day earlier in Feb, and her parents and we'd gone together for another friend's kid's B'day subsequently.. where the pair of them were the only two toddlers and they'd made a hit pair. She would run after the chettan (big bro) and the big bro would lead her a merry dance. Basically both of them were totally taken with the acres of space after being coccooned in flats, and they had a rip-roaring time running around bushes and lolling about on the green lawns.

Yesterday, when we were on our way, we cautioned Sonny boy that the brightly wrapped up gift was for the B'day baby and that he had to give it to her, and wish her, and not poke his fingers into the cake- it was Leya's not his! and generally be a good boy.. and then we asked him,
"You remember Leya baby, Sonny?"
"O coursh!"
"Where did you see her?"
"In my house"
And then he trills merrily, "Laila, Laila, Laila...!

They proceeded to have a merry time at the party too.
By the time we left, guess Leya's Dad was glad to have his daughter separated from her Majnu.

Amma, do work!!

I have long been envying the SAHMs and WAHMs their time spent with their children, and wishing that I could at least be a WAHM, even if SAHM was totally out of question.

But yesterday, I was wondering how easy it actually was...

I had some urgent mails I had to send, and so admonishing Sonny boy not to disturb Amma, Amma had work, and leaving him to the snoring mercies of his father, I sat in front of the PC. Initially I could hear the father's exhortations to sleep, but after some time, the noises died down and I thought all was well.

Not so. In came Sonny boy, trailing his baby pillow.

"I no sleep Acha. I sleep Amma." determinedly.
And so saying he plonked himself on the diwan-cum-bed in the room. He lay down there, with Goldilocks, turned a few pages, murmured something about Big and Small and Just right, and Porridge and Chair and Bed, and then beamed at me- "End of shory. Now go to sleep"!

And up he climbed into my lap. The keyboard (which I normally balance between the table and my lap) was displaced. He placed it carefully on the table, adjusted himself in the most comfortable position, took firm hold of my ear and then looked up at me, and said,
Amma put your hands there.... (on the keyboard)
Amma, do work!!!"

How do WAHM's manage to finish their work and meet their deadlines in the midst of this?

Acha has pain...

Every day by the time I come back home to Sonny Boy, it is between 7.30 and 8, and this is with me taking on absolutely no late work. I just have time to give him a big hug, that will make up for all the hugs missed during the day, and generally ask him about what transpired during that day, and then it is time to feed him dinner, time for us to eat, and then time for all of us to go to bed. I wonder what I am teaching my son- almost nothing at all, if you don't count the 'shorytime' that has become a sleeptime ritual.

For one, I want my baby to develop a love for books,
for two, I want him to have an imagination of his own and not one fuelled by images on tv,
for three, I want him to have a feel and a love for words...
For all these reasons, I try making the 'shory'-telling session as enjoyable as possible, putting as much feeling into the words, as I know. My husband can keep his eyes open only with great difficulty after 10 pm. So on the rare days when he is forced to put Sonny boy to sleep, he rushes thru the whole affair, and then drops off to sleep, Sonny boy still remaining wide awake!

One night, after Sonny boy was brushed and pyjamaed, I told him to go to bed and that Acha would come and read him story.
"Noooo, Acha's head is paining," came the wail. Acha has no headache, he was told.
"Noooo, Acha's shtomach is paining...."
I firmly told him that Acha had no stomach ache, no pain anywhere else either and that he had better listen to the story and go to sleep.

And leaving him on the bed, with his father, I went off to finish my work. After about an hour, I came back to find Hubby snoring, and Sonny boy lying quietly, half asleep, in bed. Seeing me come in he sprang up in delight and said, "Amma tell shory!" He had been waiting for me to come...and so inspite of the fact that it was nearing 11, and I was almost dead on my feet, and Sonny boy was very sleepy too, I went .. Once upon a time...
And that little head snuggled on my shoulder, his body nestled in the crook of my arm, and his chubby arm crept around to find my ear...

And I am so glad that at least there is at least one way I can bond with my child.

Glory be to God!

Sonny boy's school has started! And I am so so so relieved and thankful and happy and elated and.....

Last week my in-laws and the Terror too left. Once again, Sonny boy got left behind. Thankfully, the Terror and Sonny boy came to blows about half an hour before they were to leave. So Hubs said, Aha! Bad Terror! terrorising Sonny boy like this. Lets send him away, shall we? And so that was how the Terror was 'sent away'. Without much tears being shed.

But that again left a dent in Sonny boy's heart, for after the Terror left, he kept saying 'I love much theTerror' as if to reassure himself that the Terror hadn't really been sent away because of any ill feeling between the two of them.

Then, he just refused to have anything to do with our new maid. Who's not so new now, but still hasn't got the hang of what to do around Sonny boy, how to keep him occupied and how to distract him into doing the things he's supposed to. Her main responsibilities are
1) get him to drink milk- his 'chocolate milk'.
2) distract him while his parents slip /slink/escape away guiltily to office.
3) comfort him in case he spies us and starts crying.
3) get him to eat his food in the afternoon
4) play with him and generally get him to like her.

Madame, in the last 3 days, when she's been having sole charge of Sonny boy for the day has scored almost zero on all counts. Which was very worrying to me. She would look on apathetically when Sonny boy would start crying, and would do nothing to distract him other than a "Sonny boy, come", said just for the sake of saying something. She made zilch effort to win him over. And for two successive days, Sonny boy did not eat his food. When I called, he would just say, "but Sonny boy waiting Amma coming". And he would say "I don wan Muniyamma, I coming Amma office.

One of us almost decided to go home and stay with him the first day- he was that upset, and so were we. But then we reasoned that we had to start the way we meant to go on...Right now neither of us were in a position to work from home and I couldn't let go of my job.

Which was when school reopened. All of us were so glad. And we set out together like one happy family in the morning today, Sonny boy too, to his 'Ginger office' school. That is what he says for the rather big name his school has. He was pleased as punch to strut along importantly with his bright blue and yellow bag and yellow water bottle. He told everybody on the way that he was off to school. And once at the school, that shy look all around and at the teachers, and the slow dawning smile that ended in a huge grin of happy recognition had the teachers laugh over the little 'Senior'.
And we waved a glad bye to Sonny boy, as we left for office and he went to enquire into the affairs of a little girl who was bawling her heart out, and whose Momma was having a hard time controlling her tears too. First time at school, you see. And Sonny boy was venturing to do some comforting.

I am so glad that on Mon, there will no crying scenes that wrench at my heart, and leave me moping during the drive to office. We're off and Sonny boy's also off. Huurray for school.

Of jammed fingers and hospitals...

This weekend has been a terrible one.

Sonny boy was feeling down after his Ammamma on his mother's side left some days back, so we decided to see if a visit from Muthasshi on the father's side would cheer him up. So my in-laws- Ma, Pa and Sis have been visiting, as of last week. With my sis-in-law's little son, a Terror who is all of 1 year and 5 months, who delightedly decided to definitely keep Sonny boy company.

"And wherever Mary went, the lamb was sure to go...."
Substitute Sonny boy for Mary and the Terror for the lamb and that was the situation in my house with the two babies. (Madmomma, you are blessed to have such a loving Brat!)

Truly a Terror, my little nephew-in-law effortlessly terrorised his bigger brother.
He would rush lovingly to Sonny boy and give him one Thwack! on his face. A friendly box, a loving bite, an affectionate kick... these were some of the expressions of the deep love he has for his etta. To give due credit to my son, he was remarkably patient the first few hours of terror. But that was more because he was not used to such treatment. Not someone to take things lying down for long, before long, the two had to be kept away from each other. So much for brotherly bonding and keeping company!

Now in addition to wondering whether Sonny boy was eating and sleeping properly while I was away at office, I only needed to wonder if the two were at each others' throats yet!

But on Sat evening, the poor, poor little Terror got his wee little finger jammed in the door. (no contribution of Sonny boy, who was sleeping soundly when the incident took place) And OH! the sight of that poor mangled little ring finger on the left hand! The little one went beserk with pain. And he kept flailing that hand everywhere, out of people's reach and dropping blood all over the place. And Sonny boy woke up crying when he heard the Terror screaming, and then proceeded to scream himself when he saw all that blood and the faces of the adults- it was a horrendous evening!

Finally we rushed him to Manipal Hospital. As an aside here, a dying person could be just minutes away from the hospital and still die because of the traffic jam on Airport Road.
Here he was subjected to more of the worst kind of pain as the plastic surgeon probed the deep cut to see if that piece sticking out was his nail or skin or bone. My heart went out to the poor little scrap. Finally after a totally traumatising ordeal, the doc and nurse managed to bandage his hand up on the second attempt, because, inspite of his mother and aunt and doctor holding him and the arm down, he still managed to get that finger free and shake off the bandage.
But then- within minutes of his finger being securely bandaged up, he was smiling happily! Children! All of us in Pediatric Emergency laughed to see that smile- toothy and totally appealing...

We were told to come on Mon morn for the suturing. Its another story that we had to go back home, get him to sleep and then come back to the hospital again so that we could get his finger Xrayed. For he absolutely refused to be held down again for the Xrays, which had to be taken in addition to the blood test. There was no fracture, thankfully.

After all that, Sonny boy was little wary of how to carry hostilities further with an injured opponent. So we thought there'd be a small respite, especially since we adults too were paranoid about him hurting his finger again. But we hadn't accounted for the little Terror. Who was back in form again. Who swatted Sonny boy one across his face again, right with his bandaged finger.
"All the better to hit you with, my dear...!"

Ammamma gooooooooooone............

My Mom went back to Kerala today.

She was with me for nearly 3 weeks- the longest she's ever been away from her home after Dad passed away. She came with my nephew and my son has been having a rollicking time these 2-3 weeks. My sis and bil also landed up on Fri and we went to Tirupati on the weekend, by car.

So you see, Sonny boy has been having at least 2 people fussing around him the whole of the last 10 days, if not all of us, as he really is at that very cute stage when everything he says /does is cause for comment and merriment.

And then today morn when he woke up, all of them had vanished.

They left by 6.30; one reason was that since they were driving down they had to leave early, another was that Sonny boy would be sleeping then, and so he could be spared some early morning heartbreak.

But heartbreak is heartbreak and silence is deeper than words, truly.

Sonny boy woke up, found the house unnaturally quiet and bereft of all the people that had filled it the last few days. And he said nothing. No queries, no seeking, nothing. Not a single question about where the 4 people who had surrounded him with love and laughter had disappeared to. He just stuck close by me while I fiddled about in the kitchen. He came quietly to brush his teeth. And went to do potty even before drinking his milk. Finally while doing potty, he called me to the door of the bathroom and asked me to stay there and said- I love Amma, I love Achcha, I love Muniyamma (she's our new maid). Still, significantly, absolutely no mention of his beloved Ammamma, his cousin, his aunt, his uncle..

My heart went out to Sonny boy as I could see that he was so clearly distraught by the fact that all of them had just vanished. But I had to get him to talk about it, for Hubs and I would also have to leave in another hour for work...

So I cautiously started after I had given him his bath-
"Sweetie, Ammamma had to go home..."
Two big eyes looked up at me and slowly started filling up- "where gone Ammamma?"
"Ammamma went to her house because Trinity (our dog at Kerala) is not feeling well, and so Moothamm and Moothach took her with them.."
At that the dam broke,

The tears rolled down his cheeks. Evvybuddy gone... Ammamma gone, Chaith gone, Mooth gone, Car gone, onny Agashya not gone.

And I engulfed my son in my arms as the tears poured copiously down his little face. I was not far from tears myself....

The logic of it

Last weekend, we were going to Guruvayoor by train.Since it was an ac coach, the train was reasonably clean (and I am not too fussy), so let Sonny boy have the run of the coach. In the next compartment was a cute boy, slightly older than my 3 year old. After the initial shy looks and peeps, they decided to bond.

They had a wonderful time together playing bulls-pawing-the-floor and locking horns; clambering up the berths- the 3 year long legs valiantly trying to keep pace with the legs with about a year's extra growth, and of course chatting nineteen to the dozen- my son loves this!
Unfortunately he is not totally proficient at it yet.

Midway they got down to figures. Said the elder cutie, I'm 4 years old. Are you 4?
Said mine- Noooo, i'm not 4, I'm Agashya! (Agastya)

Decided then that my son takes after me. Numbers are a mere piffle for him and hold no attraction. But logic rules! And it won the day for him that night as all of us listening collapsed in laughter at the irrefutable logic of my son, which had the 4 year old totally stumped.

Getting to know the family

In the course of his introduction to the Hindu Pantheon, I had recently introduced Sonny boy to Chottanikkara Bhagawati, and her chant-
Amme Narayana
Devi Narayana
Lakshmi Narayana
Bhadre Narayana.

He pronounces Devi as Baby, and this was what had led to his last query on the whereabouts of Baby Rama(he's only seen pics of Baby Krishna).He is particularly fond of 'Baby' Narayana, and I guess the fondness will last for at least as long as he continues to pronounce Devi as Baby. (I hope the fondness lasts lifelong )

Today I was telling him that She is the Mother Godess. I told him that She was like me- Amma- and he could go to Her with any grouse and She would take care of it if possible.Not wanting the Gods to feel left out, I also told him that the other male Gods were like Achcha, and they would also do likewise.

Up came the second query which had me stumped for a while- Amma, where is Muthashsh?

Unfortunately, Brahma has been cursed not to be worshipped in any temple. So I do not have the picture of the Creator to show him. But I suppose I CAN tell him that Brahma is the father of all the Gods and Godesses and hence the Muthasshan (grandfather) of my dear little son?

I eagerly await the next question that emerges out of Sonny boy's experiments with prayer and Gods and Godesses

My son wanted to know today while praying- Amma, where is Baby Rama? Why is there only Baby Krishna, where is Baby Rama? Answers, anyone?