... sigh!!!
In a little more than a month's time Sharanya will be two (the terribles)... and i really can't believe how fast she's grown up. She wants to do everything herself... EVERYTHING... even getting off the damn commode. Watching her wriggle her bottom off the seat is sheer joy... of course when she runs around the house with her pyjamas around her ankle...joy turns to hilarious. And then there is the eating by herself, that's a little harder to ignore especially since there is more food on the floor (which could feed the entire continent of Africa AND the birds in our area are thriving and obesity is soon getting to be common problem for them.) than in her tummy.
She already wants to play "football" with the big boys, which means i got called aunty by 16 year olds... not good for the ego... especially since more than a couple grey hair and an every expanding waistline. She's been using her kitchen set voraciously and if that translates into her becoming this amazing, gourmet chef, I'm all for it. But its the constantly making me drink fake teas and fake dosas with fake jam and fake butter on a plastic toast, that i have a problem with. Then there's her doctors set, my temperature gets taken and my blood pressure..which is always "too high mumma" according to her. My reflexes are checked with a vengence and i cringe just thinking about the number of times my funny bone got a whack AND i've got whacked a couple of times on the legs with her hockey stick while she was trying to aim for the ball...
