“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the steam..” Of late this has become one of the numbers I am caught crooning of the various other nursery rhymes there is no dearth of which in my YouTube home screen. In all fairness Siddharth Gautham does not own a device that could host a YouTube playlist full of these rhymes for him. So, for now, what’s mine is his. My phone and my YouTube subscriptions. Also deserving mention, my handbag (it’s more of a duffel bag these days), my side of the bed, my pillow, my eat-time, my sleep-time, my bathroom time, basically, anything that was once uncontestably mine alone.
Siddharth Gautham is my twenty month old toddler. I write this as I rock him on my lap putting him to sleep. I know he is a tad too old to be rocked to sleep on a lap. Alas, he doesn't know that. Nor is he willing to learn this for a fact. This and few others.
Toddlers are naturally deceptive. They look unbelievably adorable, cushy cushy: like you could hug them n squeeze them all day long. That is until a preposterously strong heel whams on your jaw. Whilst you are still collecting yourself from the pain and recoil, the source will essentially have wriggled away from your arms – most likely with a devilishly cute giggle that will leave you grinning through your teary eyes. (Overcome by love, at this point, I bent down to kiss my ever-so-awake son – been rocking him for the past half hour now. He smiled at me and poked my eye. So I go back to rocking him, leaving him alone).
Toddlers are these marvellous little people that are made of sugar, spice and everything nice with a dash of sweet sweet nectar from satan’s most favourite flower blooming in the great and terrible gardens of the underworld.
They are known to be quite the talkers. The transition from imperceptible babbles and sweet cooing to tiny broken words understood only by the Ammas and Appas, is too subtle, it almost escapes your notice. The gradient was so gradual, even though I had made it a point to document every new move of Sid, (every sneeze and barf and laugh and poop and anything remotely associated with him) I can't tell for sure when he spoke his first word and what it was.
Sid was an early talker; that much, I can vouch for. He was only around 10 months old when he started banging on closed doors baby-yelling 'opeyyyy opeyyyy' and if you got him mad enough, he would emphasis on his desire to get the door open and squeal 'opiyaaaa opiyaaaa'.
It is nothing short of a wonder that while I fully understand what Sid baby-talks, I have to look to my brother and SIL to decode everything my little nephew says. Despite the magnitude of the population speaking it, it is a shame that baby-ese (as I would like to term it) is not yet a globally recognised and understood language. It does not have a grammar or vocabulary of its own. No SI units. No ISO standards. Each toddler makes up a language as he/she darn right pleases. How convenient. For them.
A deft communicator that Sid was, (and is) from an early age, he learnt to get things done his way with his vocabulary constituted of barely half a dozen words. His most favourite word, as I recall, was 'opey'. He got us to understand he wanted to go for a walk - all he did was bang his tiny fists on the front door and cry 'opeyyyyy opeyyyy'; if he got thirsty, he would simply pick up a water bottle, toss it across the floor and 'opeyyyy opeyyyy’; and when hungry, the refrigerator door would be yanked off its hinges with a bawl of ‘opeyyy opeyyy’. You get the idea - effective communicator.
One of my favorites was when my mom taught him to tell ‘aamaam aamaam' in response to any question he was asked. It was the most adorable thing watching him respond to a question with 'aamaam aamaam' in baby-talk. His whole tiny body would be speaking the word alongside his tiny mouth. His little head nodding, his knees springing concurring with his each nod, his eyes open wide enough to cover his face.
Sid’s vocabulary grew expeditiously. For example, by when he was 13 months old, Sid could identify at least 5 vehicles. Though his bus and bike were both 'bae’ and his lorry was 'noyee', he got ‘car’ and ‘auto’ right. And to this day, I cannot remember when his 'noyee' became 'lorry' or his 'bae’, 'bus'. (That he can now identify about fifteen types of vehicles is the one of his latest shticks up his sleeve).
Sid has this really disquieting habit of eating anything in his vicinity. Doesn't matter how small it is, or big. He sometimes even flaunts his half chewed content to me and says ‘ennamo’ (meaning 'something’), leaving me running behind him in horror trying to pull the whatever off his mouth, jamming my finger into his mouth, getting bitten royally while magnificently failing to prevent him from swallowing a significant chunk of the ‘ennamo’. So me, in all my likely brilliant farsightedness, taught him to drop anything that is in his hand if I told 'Dhoppu podu' (translates to drop it *dhop*). The idea was to utter the magic word before he tossed his floor-pick into his mouth. He caught up with this pronto. In fact he went a step ahead and started saying 'Dhoppu podu’ on my behalf and started flinging things around. So now I have two things to worry about when he picks something off of the floor or a shelf. The contents of the lower shelves have now been hastily shifted to those that he can't reach. As for the floor, I wish I could do the same without us falling through.
Over time Sid has refined his pronunciation – close to perfection in some cases. What was once ’whee whee’ – his all-time fancy – is now ‘wheels on bus’. ‘Shomae’ has become ‘snowman’. ‘Thoothaaa’ to thootham, ‘miyam’ to Milan, and ‘shenjin’ to ‘fire engine’ are some of the evident changes of a whole lot.
It's been a while since he started using two words at a time; Amma phone, Tata polaam, thootham venum, thoongi venum – many more. He has also stated asking decipherable questions – ‘paati enga?', 'enna saththam?', 'enna aachu?' and the sort.
Of late he has been surprising us by singing some random nursery rhyme. I still remember how one day, out of the blue, he started singing 'Nonny, nonny, yes papa!'. Twinkle Twinkle, Baa baa Black sheep, ABCD are some of the other rhymes he can sing these days. Although, I am starting to think only my husband, and I can actually make out his singing. But who cares?! My baby is a talker, and how!
“குழல்இனிது யாழ்இனிது என்பதம் மக்கள் மழலைச்சொல் கேளா தவர்”. For those of you who can't read/understand Tamil, the above quote is an excerpt from Tirukkural and translates roughly to 'he who has not heard his child’s baby-talk shall claim that the sweetest sound is that of a flute or a harp. And there is nothing more relevant for me at the moment.
Sid just fell asleep, as did my legs. I better go. Good night y'all.
Siddharth Gautham is my twenty month old toddler. I write this as I rock him on my lap putting him to sleep. I know he is a tad too old to be rocked to sleep on a lap. Alas, he doesn't know that. Nor is he willing to learn this for a fact. This and few others.
Toddlers are naturally deceptive. They look unbelievably adorable, cushy cushy: like you could hug them n squeeze them all day long. That is until a preposterously strong heel whams on your jaw. Whilst you are still collecting yourself from the pain and recoil, the source will essentially have wriggled away from your arms – most likely with a devilishly cute giggle that will leave you grinning through your teary eyes. (Overcome by love, at this point, I bent down to kiss my ever-so-awake son – been rocking him for the past half hour now. He smiled at me and poked my eye. So I go back to rocking him, leaving him alone).
Toddlers are these marvellous little people that are made of sugar, spice and everything nice with a dash of sweet sweet nectar from satan’s most favourite flower blooming in the great and terrible gardens of the underworld.
They are known to be quite the talkers. The transition from imperceptible babbles and sweet cooing to tiny broken words understood only by the Ammas and Appas, is too subtle, it almost escapes your notice. The gradient was so gradual, even though I had made it a point to document every new move of Sid, (every sneeze and barf and laugh and poop and anything remotely associated with him) I can't tell for sure when he spoke his first word and what it was.
Sid was an early talker; that much, I can vouch for. He was only around 10 months old when he started banging on closed doors baby-yelling 'opeyyyy opeyyyy' and if you got him mad enough, he would emphasis on his desire to get the door open and squeal 'opiyaaaa opiyaaaa'.
It is nothing short of a wonder that while I fully understand what Sid baby-talks, I have to look to my brother and SIL to decode everything my little nephew says. Despite the magnitude of the population speaking it, it is a shame that baby-ese (as I would like to term it) is not yet a globally recognised and understood language. It does not have a grammar or vocabulary of its own. No SI units. No ISO standards. Each toddler makes up a language as he/she darn right pleases. How convenient. For them.
A deft communicator that Sid was, (and is) from an early age, he learnt to get things done his way with his vocabulary constituted of barely half a dozen words. His most favourite word, as I recall, was 'opey'. He got us to understand he wanted to go for a walk - all he did was bang his tiny fists on the front door and cry 'opeyyyyy opeyyyy'; if he got thirsty, he would simply pick up a water bottle, toss it across the floor and 'opeyyyy opeyyyy’; and when hungry, the refrigerator door would be yanked off its hinges with a bawl of ‘opeyyy opeyyy’. You get the idea - effective communicator.
One of my favorites was when my mom taught him to tell ‘aamaam aamaam' in response to any question he was asked. It was the most adorable thing watching him respond to a question with 'aamaam aamaam' in baby-talk. His whole tiny body would be speaking the word alongside his tiny mouth. His little head nodding, his knees springing concurring with his each nod, his eyes open wide enough to cover his face.
Sid’s vocabulary grew expeditiously. For example, by when he was 13 months old, Sid could identify at least 5 vehicles. Though his bus and bike were both 'bae’ and his lorry was 'noyee', he got ‘car’ and ‘auto’ right. And to this day, I cannot remember when his 'noyee' became 'lorry' or his 'bae’, 'bus'. (That he can now identify about fifteen types of vehicles is the one of his latest shticks up his sleeve).
Sid has this really disquieting habit of eating anything in his vicinity. Doesn't matter how small it is, or big. He sometimes even flaunts his half chewed content to me and says ‘ennamo’ (meaning 'something’), leaving me running behind him in horror trying to pull the whatever off his mouth, jamming my finger into his mouth, getting bitten royally while magnificently failing to prevent him from swallowing a significant chunk of the ‘ennamo’. So me, in all my likely brilliant farsightedness, taught him to drop anything that is in his hand if I told 'Dhoppu podu' (translates to drop it *dhop*). The idea was to utter the magic word before he tossed his floor-pick into his mouth. He caught up with this pronto. In fact he went a step ahead and started saying 'Dhoppu podu’ on my behalf and started flinging things around. So now I have two things to worry about when he picks something off of the floor or a shelf. The contents of the lower shelves have now been hastily shifted to those that he can't reach. As for the floor, I wish I could do the same without us falling through.
Over time Sid has refined his pronunciation – close to perfection in some cases. What was once ’whee whee’ – his all-time fancy – is now ‘wheels on bus’. ‘Shomae’ has become ‘snowman’. ‘Thoothaaa’ to thootham, ‘miyam’ to Milan, and ‘shenjin’ to ‘fire engine’ are some of the evident changes of a whole lot.
It's been a while since he started using two words at a time; Amma phone, Tata polaam, thootham venum, thoongi venum – many more. He has also stated asking decipherable questions – ‘paati enga?', 'enna saththam?', 'enna aachu?' and the sort.
Of late he has been surprising us by singing some random nursery rhyme. I still remember how one day, out of the blue, he started singing 'Nonny, nonny, yes papa!'. Twinkle Twinkle, Baa baa Black sheep, ABCD are some of the other rhymes he can sing these days. Although, I am starting to think only my husband, and I can actually make out his singing. But who cares?! My baby is a talker, and how!
“குழல்இனிது யாழ்இனிது என்பதம் மக்கள் மழலைச்சொல் கேளா தவர்”. For those of you who can't read/understand Tamil, the above quote is an excerpt from Tirukkural and translates roughly to 'he who has not heard his child’s baby-talk shall claim that the sweetest sound is that of a flute or a harp. And there is nothing more relevant for me at the moment.
Sid just fell asleep, as did my legs. I better go. Good night y'all.
