This boys life

This week it will be almost three weeks since Sidharth started his daycare and by now he seems to have adjusted well to his new part-time surrounding. He broke his mother’s heart last week when he sauntered into the day care without looking back or letting off a wail at the prospect of his mother forsaking him with strangers, in his precocious mind. Sidharth just sauntered off towards his caretaker without so much as a look over his shoulder. And he broke his mother’s heart! All day Seemz kept on complaining about her son’s disloyalty and that he was now learning to get by without her. And I laughed. But he still waits expectantly in the afternoons and is ecstatic to be carried home by his anticipatory and even more ecstatic mother. Filial love.

We have also notice that Sidharth has been embolden manifolds on account of his interaction with other children at the daycare. We have not yet observed how he passes his time at the center yet, but going by his behavior at home it is assumed that he must be indulging himself in some full-bloodied hell-raising hair-tearing shenanigans, only as kids can. At home his demeanor is decidedly much more aggressive and he is extremely assertive in his wants, likes and dislikes. Also his interaction with other children has had a world of change. He seems more acceptable of other kids of his age around him and interacts with them either for harmonious collaborations or acrimonious fisticuffs, again only as kids can.

And the spitting, yikes, just never seems to stop. Spitting at the parents, at the wall, on the bed, at books, at toys, on the remote, inside shoes, outside shoes, its all engulfing. From vociferous, stern “Noooooooo” to grave warnings of timeouts seems to have little effects on this dastardly flavor-of-the-month inclination. If experienced parents are to be believed, this too shall pass. But I have my doubts. Just look at baseball players. Looks like they never stopped spitting. Maybe they started in somewhat a similar fashion! Other attempts to discipline him have met with little success. This little freight train of ours has left the station and hurtling down the tracks, taking our sanity with us, at least for some part pf the day. “Terrible Two’s” is what we take our consolation in, cus this too shall pass.