This week my life has been a filo-pastry of grouchiness. As in I dont know whether Im bummed because of the carnage in Lahore , is it because Arhaan has decided that milk doesnt do it for him any more, or that I find myself dragging my feet completing a book project. How can I when there is so much happening at High Heel Confidential, there are all these interesting blog posts up today (in addition to this facebook stalking takes up most of our time).
Gman feels equally bad about the " milk hartal" . Our evening walks have become exceptionally slow. Major Guru Dutt moment. Think of us all black and white singing Waqt Ney Kiya Kiya Haseen Satam
Arhaan knows he has been bad so he tries to keep up the chatter pretending nothing is wrong, he is a tough cookie I realize. Gman turned to me and said Bahut kharab lagta hai. It really feels bad when kids dont drink milk.
We have been pretty immature about coping with the toddler tantrums. Most of the time we try forming our own cool clique and whisper stuff to each other taking swigs from the mug (Kids who Dont Drink Milk Need Not Apply to our club). I have also tried channeling Nirupa Roy crying copious tears trying to guilt trip him into drinking milk but he aint buying (damn if he is so stubborn now what will I do when he bunks school and joins the biker gang)
We are tired and Im depressed. I tell myself I could have used all this energy writing something (or so I hope) that would have made a difference (modest arent we) or thinking up a way to resolve the political crisis. Project World Peace too could be tackled, no dramas. But here am I playing mind games with a toddler. So we do things like disguise it in his sooji halwa, or mix it in ice cream or boil his vegetables in milk. Lets see. He is enjoying the sudden deluge of ice cream and yoghurt in his life.
Dhaka has gone into mourning after Brazil and Argentina[s exit from the World Cup. I was not joking when I had written earlier about the religious devotion accorded to the two teams . Its kind of funny all this while I have been trying to keep Arhaan away from the angst of divided loyalties but it just follows him everywhere. All last month, it has been do you believe in the power of Brazil or Argentina? Choose choose choose. Who does the baba like? And finally it was an Argentina jersey for him. The other day in the park this 10 year old came running to him and hugged him tight. And an old man shook his fist and went Dushto! (think Yanna Rascala).
Oh well so is life. Any suggestions welcome (on the milk front. we are taking a break from football)