Nine: Banilla is my FAVORITE
Grace!
1. This photo (which a friend of mine recently uploaded to Facebook) of Kid A and Baby YaYa, sitting in their highchairs, eating salad at the Land. This was right after we moved there. A part of me feels so sad, looking at them. Because those people are gone, and in their place are the wiry brown children that we now know, the ones who read, the ones who say things like, "I would like a scooter with only two wheels because it would be a lot more challenging for me. (Challenging means harder, that's why I say more challenging.)"
I know that somewhere deep within them, though, the chubby cheeks remain. And we wouldn't want them to have to eat in highchairs for the rest of their lives, would we? (Yes we would!) No, we wouldn't.
2. There is always Solo, the cheeks and thighs of whom none have ever equaled.
3. Yesterday I booked train tickets for the beginning of April. There are still kinks to work out with our trip, (there are ALWAYS kinks. And high jinks.) but we are getting there. We will keep this house for when we come back to Goa, in September or October.
4. Today I opted for not walking through the deep sand with the stroller, and decided (instead of going to the beach) to wander over to the house where Aunty Becca and Cat are living, through the village, with the kids. They weren't at their house. (Where were they? And why didn't I have a prior consultation before they left?) So their house owner invited me over to her place, a little stone Goan style house with a tiled roof and a cow dung floor. She fetched us all Maaza, and we sat and talked for a while.
Her mother-in-law, a wizened woman with the huge black framed glasses so ubiquitous with elderly people here, kept indicating that I should give Solo some Maaza too. I probably shouldn't give any of my kids Maaza, since it is a "mango flavored drink" containing "some fruit" (we all know what that means, and it begins with an "S" and ends with a "ugar") but especially not Solo. Then she started joking in the way that I've noticed is common here, when you have a baby and older kids.
"I'll keep your baba, you won't have him anymore." The answer from my kids is always a vehement shaking of the head, not quite a contradiction in a rude way, but firm enough. Apparently they're fond of him.
It was nice to sit and visit.
5. And then we had ice cream cones, (packaged ones) and we sat on the steps in front of the shop to eat them. Leafy was ice cream face monster, Kid A scarfed his back with incredible speed, and YaYa made hers last for two hours. Solo didn't get any ice cream, either. Just typical, you know? A good Saturday.
1. This photo (which a friend of mine recently uploaded to Facebook) of Kid A and Baby YaYa, sitting in their highchairs, eating salad at the Land. This was right after we moved there. A part of me feels so sad, looking at them. Because those people are gone, and in their place are the wiry brown children that we now know, the ones who read, the ones who say things like, "I would like a scooter with only two wheels because it would be a lot more challenging for me. (Challenging means harder, that's why I say more challenging.)"
I know that somewhere deep within them, though, the chubby cheeks remain. And we wouldn't want them to have to eat in highchairs for the rest of their lives, would we? (Yes we would!) No, we wouldn't.
2. There is always Solo, the cheeks and thighs of whom none have ever equaled.
3. Yesterday I booked train tickets for the beginning of April. There are still kinks to work out with our trip, (there are ALWAYS kinks. And high jinks.) but we are getting there. We will keep this house for when we come back to Goa, in September or October.
4. Today I opted for not walking through the deep sand with the stroller, and decided (instead of going to the beach) to wander over to the house where Aunty Becca and Cat are living, through the village, with the kids. They weren't at their house. (Where were they? And why didn't I have a prior consultation before they left?) So their house owner invited me over to her place, a little stone Goan style house with a tiled roof and a cow dung floor. She fetched us all Maaza, and we sat and talked for a while.
Her mother-in-law, a wizened woman with the huge black framed glasses so ubiquitous with elderly people here, kept indicating that I should give Solo some Maaza too. I probably shouldn't give any of my kids Maaza, since it is a "mango flavored drink" containing "some fruit" (we all know what that means, and it begins with an "S" and ends with a "ugar") but especially not Solo. Then she started joking in the way that I've noticed is common here, when you have a baby and older kids.
"I'll keep your baba, you won't have him anymore." The answer from my kids is always a vehement shaking of the head, not quite a contradiction in a rude way, but firm enough. Apparently they're fond of him.
It was nice to sit and visit.
5. And then we had ice cream cones, (packaged ones) and we sat on the steps in front of the shop to eat them. Leafy was ice cream face monster, Kid A scarfed his back with incredible speed, and YaYa made hers last for two hours. Solo didn't get any ice cream, either. Just typical, you know? A good Saturday.