My son and I have no-holds barred conversations. These conversations often leave me with a gormless look on my face and at other times it’s a toss-up between laughter, crying and looking for a place to bang my head against.
Ever since TO and a bunch of little friends sneaked a peek at some horror movies on Amazon Prime and then went and got spooked about anything that went bump in the night, I’ve reinforced the embargo on scary movies till he’s 30. My hope is that he outgrows the wish to watch them way before that deadline passes but keeping it banned till the big 3-0 makes it sufficiently important in his head. If anything’s banned for that long then the repercussions surrounding it are going to be rather elaborate and possibly ouchie-inducing too.
I’m not too worried about him sneaking a peek again. In fact let him see Pennywise biting off a kid’s hand or pulling him into a sewer. Or Bathsheba possessing Carolyn Perron or worst of all, let him take a gander at the head turning scene in The Exorcist. Some lessons are learnt the hard way. Let’s see which way the little man’s headed..’cuse the pun!
But getting back to the freaky conversations we’re prone to having…TO keeps asking me how the doll in Annabelle comes alive. And explaining demonic possession to an almost 10-year old isn’t something I thought I’d have to tackle. I mean the facts of life..yeah sure. But how a doll is a host of a demon or that people use the occult to channel evil spirits and what is exorcism; all this wasn’t in any of the parenting manuals my husband shoved my face into unfortunately.
So after trying to explain the occult to him and failing, I tried to keep up with the rapid fire questions while evading the virtual helicopter shots coming off his cricket bat. I told him I didn’t know how Annabelle got out of the well or why they didn’t show Annabelle as walking and running or killing people or if he’d suddenly find Annabelle if he opened his closet door while he was home alone one day. But I told him not to worry about Annabelle at all…because I…his all-knowing mother was always watching and would ALWAYS know what he was up to. Always. Mwaaaahaaaa
I am currently facing a gargantuan task. I have to sort out the images I have with me on my hard drive. The device is running out of space and I know I’ll keep taking more pictures so I have no option but to optimize the usage as soon as possible.
So, what’s the brouhaha about? I should be able to ruthlessly delete stuff, right? Well, it needs to be taken into account that I have certain OCD features which have prevented me from doing this in the past. I am a hoarder *hangs head in shame* so it’s pretty darn tough for me to throw anything away especially images of my child, taken from the moment he was born till the one I took of him yesterday.
As it is with fast moving bodies, you need to click a good number of images before you find the one which isn’t excessively blurry or the one which has your subject looking exactly the way you want them to. So it stands to reason that the human hurricane that he was before he turned 6, has way too many pictures which contain if nothing else, but a part of an ear, a pinkie or the curve of his butt. And it is now my “pleasure” to sort through those treasures and keep the ones which I absolutely can’t do without.
Did I also mention that I need things organized in a said manner so I don’t have a mini fit looking at images all lumped together? The feeling of seeing a folder arranged into sub-folders which may or may not have their additional sub-folders is *quite* a joy. Neat. Tidy and most importantly, properly labelled. I’m quite the labeler. They make it easy to locate things in life like the trip you took when the child was 2 years old and it was winter. Or the images from when he was in diapers but sporting a bald look. It all adds up…to idiosyncrasies but it can’t be helped. It’s part genes and part malaise.
I have a MAJOR quirk. I NEED things personalized down to the last detail to feel comfortable in a few things that I dabble in. For eg: the phone I use will need the font, wallpaper and ringtone done ‘just right’ before it’s ready for use. The same applies to my blog. Aesthetics or functionality; whatever be the case.
Till now I’d kept my rather obscure photoblog separate because it wasn’t texty and dealt with only pictutes but the need to have everything under one roof has been nagging me for a bit. So the photoblog will gradually be integrated into this one and there you have it. Quirk handled!
For now, enjoy (or not), the endless cloud pictures I just can’t seem to help myself from clicking.
TO’s school puts together a pretty good show for their annual day. The stage, the lighting, the whole shebang is something I look forward to each year. And it’s actually rather superlative given that they have to co-ordinate with kids ranging from kindergartners to 5th graders.
This year’s extravaganza was their rendition of the Pied Piper of Hamelyn. Between the harlequin-like piper and rats (of which my flesh and blood was one), it was quite enjoyable. I seldom need a reason to start tapping my toes and seeing TO’s practice session at home, I knew it’d be fun all through.
They usually end with a peppy number and get the entire jingbang on the stage to take a bow.
Or did he? It’s one of those things we may never really know about for sure. Well, not unless we research a bit into bulldog geneology and map it to a timeline and figure out when the first ones appeared.
But why bulldogs? Why not Shih Tzus or Sharpeis when they are clearly the cuddley-wuddley-izzums of the small dog segments? Well it so happened this weekend when we were at a place in the outskirts of Hyderabad, I came across the landscaping which was clearly done by a team/person who loves Oriental symbols and the Buddha especially.
There are statues all over the resort along with those chubby, laughing babies one tends to see in their artwork. What one doesn’t usually see are bulldogs. And yet there they were. And so was a pelican! Go figure…
Out of all the things there, these bulldogs caught my eye. Why wouldn’t they? They were so life like. Imagine trudging your way to the restaurant for breakfast, semi-zombieish from the lack of caffeine, and behold. A bull dog. Totally the cover for Better Homes and Gardens.
So, did Buddha have a bulldog? I guess we’ll never know.
P.S: What do you get if you cross a Bulldog and a Shih Tzu? Bullshit!