As modern-day parents, we are constantly struggling to keep unrealistic ambitions for our son in check and trying to give him the best that we can. The efforts include my telling him the story of Gupi Gayin Bagha Bayin in English at bedtime. Most of the other efforts/interactions are also similarly mismatched (though the GGBB story was a hit).
Some examples are reproduced below.
Getting him to watch football (or for that matter, any sport) is very difficult. Impossible, if ads (preferably Zoozoo) don't come at regular intervals. Therefore, I have to watch the World Cup with a constant background whine of "I wanna watch Tinkerbell". Oh - don't get me started on boys watching pixies and fairies.
The only time he perked up during yesterday's Italy-Slovakia match was when there was a tussle inside the goal with the Slovak goalie tangled in the net and an Italian forward nearly got into fisticuffs with him.
And when a particularly loud strain of Vuvuzela was accompanied by the visual of a guy playing it, I grimaced. He turned to me and screamed, "I WANT THAT!"
* * * * *
My son recaps the Tortoise & Rabbit story he heard at a summer camp. Remember, he can't say R in some words and pronounces it as W.
"Tortoise and Wabbit having race. Tortoise going slower slower. Everyone falling asleep. Wabbit going faster faster and coming first. Everyone saying yayyy!"
* * * * *
My wife (in a very loving mood): "My darling son will go to Oxford, won't you? He will go to Harvard. Won't you, Joy?"
My son considers this for a moment. "I want to go to the mall."
* * * * *
Wife: "If Joy wants to be an engineer, imagine the pressure we will have to go through! All this IIT and DU admissions will get even tougher then."
Me: "If he really wants to get into IIT, he wouldn't mind the pressure - right?"
Wife: "Yes. Or he might want to become a potter or something."
Me: "Yeah. That saves us a lot of tension."
Wife (to Joy): "What do you want to become when you grow up, Joy?"
Joy (without a pause): "Superman."
The Brazil-Portugal match starts in a bit. Let me try to initiate him to the South American ways of playing football. Or better not. Let him like Italy. No, but... Sigh!
Son and I
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