Sharing is hard

Kamal, apropos of nothing: Oh my gosh!
Me, agreeably echoing: Oh, my gosh. 
Kamal: NO IT'S NOT YOUR GOSH IT'S MY GOSH! IT'S ONLY MINE!

When you're having fun

For his first three months, Kamal and I basically lived in the Boppy breastfeeding pillow that our friend Miriam passed on to us just before he was born. 

Now our friend Dawn is expecting her own baby, and the Boppy is getting a new home. But first we had to take a quick photo to show a little bit of how fast time flies when you're having fun.

Two and a half months:

Two and a half years:

How To Feed A Toddler Lunch, in 20 Simple Steps

1. Ask toddler if he'd like a chicken-sausage sandwich.

2. Agree with toddler when he replies in the affirmative and adds that he'd like butter on that; congratulate self on knowing your child so well.

3. Prepare sandwich to toddler's exacting specifications.

4. Put sandwich on yellow plate.

5. Explain to suddenly weeping toddler that the blue plate is dirty, which is why the sandwich is on the yellow plate.

6. Consider washing blue plate to make toddler stop weeping.

7. Decide that washing blue plate is sending the wrong message.

8. Remind toddler that yellow is also a very nice color.

9. Take deep breath and remind yourself that weeping over plate colors is a developmentally
appropriate action for a two-and-a-half year old.

10. Offer to put sandwich in blue bowl, which is clean.

11. Feel relieved that you and toddler appear to have reached consensus on tableware.

12. Place sandwich in blue bowl at toddler's place at dining table.

13. Attempt to cajole toddler out of fresh weeping fit and state of apparent collapse on the floor next to dining table.

14. Attempt to decipher toddler through his sobs; gather he no longer desires sandwich.

15. Briefly, weep along with him.

16. Suggest wrapping up sandwich in a napkin and taking it with you to the playground for toddler to eat later.

17. Feel simultaneously relieved and skeptical when toddler appears to agree and stops weeping.

18. Sit down and eat your own damn sandwich, because by now you're starving.

19. Watch as toddler studiously unwraps napkin, sits down at table next to you, and inexplicably and silently eats entire sandwich.

20. Ask no questions.

This is actually Kamal eating a fairly polite breakfast at our diner date last week. 

Rookie mistake

At bathtime tonight, Kamal beseeched, "Mama, come in the bath with me!"

And he asked so cutely.I was fully dressed and didn't want to get undressed, but I smiled at him, happy to be able to oblige my adorable little child, rolled up my pants leg, and put one foot in the water. 

Kamal looked just as delighted as I'd hoped. And then he said,

"I peeing. Heh heh." (I swear, he cackled.)

It's been days, and I still can't believe I made such a rookie mistake. 

You try getting mad at this face.

First ballet class

I was so sure Kamal would love this. I was all ready to record video of him gleefully leaping around between a barre and a mirrored wall, surrounded by other, equally gleeful small dancers. I couldn't wait to post the video here, on Facebook, everywhere. I picked out his clothes--a black long-sleeved onesie and soft, charcoal-grey knit jersey pants, basically what I imagine a ballet dancer who's not trying too hard would wear to rehearsal--days in advance. I was stoked.

Instead, Kamal stayed in my lap for the entire class. Which is fine, of course--I'm not going to push a two-year-old into a situation he doesn't feel ready for, obviously. I'm about as far from a Tiger Mother as you can get and still be Asian. But I still wanted, so badly, to document this first ballet class (because, come on, what if he becomes a famous dancer and the people doing his writeup in the New Yorker call me and say, Hey, Mother of a Famous Dancer, where did it all begin? Or something like that. Um, not that I care as long as he's happy) and so I took these photos, of Kamal's reacting to, if not participating in, his very first ballet class.

Here they are.

Our bedtime "routine"

Kamal, after vehemently cutting me off after the first line of about seventeen different lullabies, as though bedtime is his own personal The Gong Show:

Yes! This my favorite.

Me: Oh, that's nice. I like this one a lot too.

Kamal, covering my mouth with his hand: NO! You not like it. It's MY favorite.

Me: Um, I can still like it too.

Kamal: NO.

*silence*

Sing it.

Me: I see. So I have to sing it, but I can't like it.

Kamal: SING IT.

In other news, we got our very first blue egg today!

How Kamal rolls (literally, like, in his stroller)

One of the things I love best about our house is the creek and creek trail right behind it. Being able to pop out the back door and right onto a dirt path shaded with oak and olive and eucalyptus trees, scented with wild fennel and the freshness of running water, with wild turkeys grazing alongside in fall and baby partridges scrambling around in spring, feels to me like the pinnacle of luxury. It's made my runs richer, more meditative and definitely more fun--not to mention much gentler on my joints than concrete sidewalks.

However, ever since Kamal has been able to express an opinion, he's resisted the creek trail when we go for runs together. I'm pretty sure it's because, as neat as it is to sight ducks and turkeys and the very occasional otter, he'd much rather sight buses and trucks and trains. That's the kind of scenery my jogging partner enjoys, from his cozy seat, and since I'm often faced with the choice of running with Kamal or not running at all, that's the the scenery we go looking for.

So nowadays, instead of running along the idyllic creek path, Kamal and I typically jog through our little neighborhood, past a giant shopping mall, along a major downtown street, and finally through a transit center, where there are usually a bunch of city buses lined up. He counts them, taking the job seriously, but not so much that he forgoes his usual panache.