• Suma watch this, he says. A million times a day. Sometimes to seek my attention, sometimes to share the excitement of having found a lost toy, and at other times to show something that he has discovered. Atul doesn't call me amma these days. Appa has taught him all of amma's pet names, and he has decided to add one to the list.
  

• Suma, why did Obama win, and not McCain, asked Atul. That's because more people voted for Obama, was my response. Why did more people not vote for McCain, came his follow up question. I told him, more people thought Obama's choices and rules are better than McCain's, so they voted Obama to be our leader. Then he asked, Suma do you think I make good rules and choices. Yes, I do Atul, was my reassurance. When I grow up to be a big boy, I want to be a leader. Do you think more people will vote for me? asked Atul keenly. So my friends, in another 40 years or so, if you happen to hear Atul Hari Venkatesh as a presidential candidate, please remember this post, and do vote for him.
  

• Out of the blue, one day Atul asked me, where did you buy me from? A little startled my spontaneous response was, I did not buy you Atul, I made you. Did you make me at the sensory table? Did you make me with play doh? asked curious little Atul.
  

• Why is my skin brown? The last time he asked me this question, it was matter-of-fact, and I was able to come up with a matter-of-fact response. Atul, do you remember at the farm different horses had different colors. In the same way, different people are made of different colors. But this time around, he was more emotional about it. Why are all kids in my class painted white? Why is nobody painted in brown? I want to be painted in white like my friends. I tried telling him that it doesn't matter how we look or what color we are made of. What matters is how we feel inside. I don't think he was too convinced, which means he will come back again with that question. I better be prepared before that.
  

• Some days I am so tired that I retire to bed earlier than Atul does. So I ask him to tuck me instead of the other way around. On one such night, he tucks me in, kisses me on my cheek, and with a sparkle in his eyes tells, sleep tight sleepy head.

The household is getting geared up for Santa's visit tonight. Atul and Arvind have been tracking Santa since this morning here. Atul was worried that if we don't bake cookies, Santa would eat his presents instead. So we fervently baked some oatmeal cookies and have saved a couple for the saint. We huddled by the fireplace, Atul in his sleeping bag, and I in a velux, reading Christmas stories and later listening to Christmas songs. Our little fiber optics Christmas tree adorns the living room and is awaiting to be surrounded by goodies from Santa. Here's wishing that Santa brings all of us the much needed positivity, faith, and cheer. A cashmere sweater, a crockery set or that woolen socks that I have been eying for would not hurt either :-).  On that note, Seasons Greetings to one and all. 

Raising Atul has made me acutely aware of how a child derives his sense of self-worth from his parents. He is very sensitive to an icy look, a stern tone, a sigh, a blank face, or even disinterested conversations. He probably thinks that it was something that he did that caused the behavior, which could be true sometimes but not necessarily all the time. He would coax, and cajole me, “Don't keep your face like that (imitating me), I want you to smile.” I would respond, “Kanna, amma doesn't feel like smiling. Some days are like that.” Still determined, the kiddo would say, “Smile amma.” Knowing that I do not  have a choice, I would fake a smile. He would see through it, “Don't smile like that. Smile properly.” By now, his genuine need to see me smile, to convince himself that all is well in the world, to know that amma is happy so that he can be happy, would wipe the crankiness out of my face and voice, and unintentionally I would smother him with hugs and kisses. In a state of bliss, the kiddo would go skipping and hopping with a 1000 watt smile on his face, and a couple of cars in his hands. (yes, he and his car/trucks are inseparable.)

Slowly I am beginning to realize that like Atul, I tend to measure my sense of self-worth through his actions and responses. The other day , listening to Indian rhymes, he popped a question, “Amma, what does Sundari mean.” I responded, “It means beautiful”. Pat came the response, “Mommy, I think you are Sundari.” Awww....!! needless to say I was flying high in the air, as though I had won the Miss World title. Here is another incident. My face was all loaded with tension while backing the car out of a tight parking spot, and after some trial and error, I manged to pull the car out. Sensing the relief on my face, the kiddo screamed, “You did it mommy.” Who else would be my cheer leader and take pride in my itsy bitsy accomplishments like he does! How about this incident. It was one of those days when my tolerance level was at its lowest , and I kept snapping at Atul at the slightest infraction. The kiddo declared, “You are not my friend any more”, and I retorted, “Ok, good.” After a few minutes, I cooled down but was writhing in guilt for my unreasonable behavior. So I took him on my lap, and confessed that I was wrong and apologized. The kiddo magnanimously said, “I am sorry too. But it's ok, it happens.” He probably picked it up from school or from us, and used it in context. But that day, I needed to hear that to assuage my own guilty consciousness. To know that it's ok to lapse. To be me.

Tomorrow is Atul's fourth birthday. Four years have gone by in a jiffy, but not without a lot of changes, small and big. Atul is becoming more independent, can stand up for himself, comes up with tricky questions, has learnt to see loopholes in rules, knows to care and express concern, and is more patient with us than we are with him. All these with the innocence that you would expect from a child that's discovering the world.

A Very Happy Birthday to you Atul, our precious. Appa and amma are so proud of the person you are becoming, and are thankful for your presence in our lives. We wish you a truck load of happiness, a wagon load of fun, and good health (I know you would have liked me to add a car filled with presents, but remember how we talked about company is more important than gifts. I know you still have years before you can understand that. No hurry, take your time to grow up!)

The transition is a big change not only for Atul but also for us. Co-sleeping is such fun. To be physically close to Atul, exchanging stories, having our zen moments after a stressful day was something that we have so cherished in spite of all the kicks and body aches that are the side effects when two adults and a pre-schooler sleep on a queen size bed. Yet, deep down I nursed a twinge of guilt that perhaps we were not inculcating good sleeping habits, as it was evident that he woke up the second he was left alone. So all along we took turns to make sure that one of us was by his side. Advocates of co-sleeping would say that he would eventually outgrow that need with time. I know he would, I did when I was a kid and I know a thousand others that did. But still I had to try it out to assuage my guilty consciousness. So when Atul comes back at 2:00 in the night, declaring that he is all done sleeping on his own for the night, we welcome him with open arms! A win-win situation in my mind.

I felt a lump in my throat as Arvind and I drove back lost in silence, both of us engrossed in our own world of thoughts . Last Thursday was Atul's last day at his school. The day was filled with all the fun things that he associated with school – Play ball, Show and Tell, pizza for lunch, and his friend A had come too. We handed over the treats we had bought for the kids and the staff, took some class pictures and extended our heartfelt gratitude to the teachers for making him feel at “home”, and for their contribution in molding his personality this past year. The teachers had made a beautiful scrap book for Atul as goodbye gift. It had pictures of Atul with silly faces, playing with his favorite toys, and being pally with A. Knowing Atul's liking (rather obsession) for stickers, they had included a couple of sheets of stickers for him. It was very touching. A treasure that he will cherish in the years to come.

As I pulled into our driveway on Thursday evening, I asked, “Atul are you sad that you will not be going to BH any more?”, to which he said, “I am sad because my teachers and friends will miss me”. I think he was going through mixed emotions that day. Losing the familiarity of his old school and friends made him feel insecure, but by the same token the novelty of the new school, and new toys excited him. I assured him that if he wanted, we could visit his old school to say hi to his teachers and even have play dates with old friends in the weekends.

The day also made me realize how much I counted on his teachers to be there for him - to give an extra nudge during lunch time, to teach him to stand up for himself, to comfort him when he is hurt, and to encourage him to share and care. Some days I have worried that he was missing out on the one to one interaction, but the guilty consciousness almost always vanished the second I entered his classroom in the evening for picking him up, when he would refuse to leave, and would plead for staying for “last 7 minutes”. I consider that as a yardstick to gauge how happy he was spending majority of his day away from parents, at school.

With the shift in schools, Atul will officially exit the day care environment. Bestest of best wishes to my little one. I know you will shine, wherever you are. 

Atul: Mommy, can I sleep next to you?
Me: No kanna (no dear)
Atul: Please mommy, just for today.
Me: Illa da kanna. You are a big boy now and you have to sleep on your own in the big boy bed. Go to sleep now kanna, amma is feeling sleepy too.
Atul: But mommy, you are all alone there
Me: It's ok ma. You are here right next to me. I don't feel lonely at all.
Atul: I think you will start crying now.
Me: Illa da raja. I don't feel sad at all. Now go to sleep.
Atul: Can you atleast give me your hand?
Me: No ma kanna. Amma's hands will start aching if I keep my hand on you for a long time.
Atul: Can you keep your hands atleast for two minutes, please please?

It's easier to fight the tantrums than the please. And as I said earlier there are only so many NOs that one is capable of saying, especially at 3:00 in the morning. I succumb, and he wins!

A close friend of mine, fondly nicknamed Atul as “Kelvi Nayagan”. Kelvi in Tamizh means question and Nayagan refers to Hero. So roughly translated, Kelvi Nayagan would imply king of questions.