“Betu!!” I hear Mumma's voice repeating herself several times.
“WAKE UP!” she said again with her eyes widening.
I would love to laze in bed and ignore my mother calling out my name and telling me to wake up for the hundredth time. I would open one eye and see if it is morning. I just hate waking up. Why can’t people let me sleep?
Wait a sec, before you go on reading, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Myra. I’m two and a half years old. I’m a busy little person waiting to explore every nook and corner and obviously get my little hands on anything and everything. My favourite word is ‘why’ for everything. It does drive my family up the wall at times. But I need to find the answer to everything!
“Myra! It’s morning! It’s time to get up!”, Mumma said, trying to be calm.
But obviously, in my little world, everything goes as per my plan. My day finally starts when I agree to get out of bed. The first thing I need to do is cuddle mom and look out of the window of our room. If I don’t see Mom I’m not going to be in a very good mood. I’m warning you! But at times I can give my mother a hard time. But that’s ok I guess.
The next thing you know I park my butt on my royal toilet seat and poop. Poop time is when all my questions start coming to my head. Like, ‘why do we have a drain? Why can’t I rub my hands on the toilet? Why can’t I sleep more? Are we going to the park today? Do you know what my favourite colors are?’
And then breakfast.
I find breakfast to be such torture. I don’t like to eat anything in the morning. To tell you the truth all I want to do is meet all my soft toys and run around the house. But I really do love Rajma Chawal & noodles. My all time favourite.
I love staying naked before bath time. I love running to the mirror to admire myself. You see, I love boobies. I call them boo boo. I find them very fascinating. I tell my mother that ‘Myra has boos boos too.’
One evening, I shoved two balls down my t-shirt and said, “See Mom, look at my boo boos." My mom’s jaw fell. She didn't know whether to laugh or get mad. My little sister followed my footsteps and she also put one ball down her t-shirt. We all had quite an eventful evening.
At times I wonder why doesn’t dad’s chest and mom’s chest look the same? Anyways since we are talking about boobies, I have to talk about bras and how much I love them!
One evening, Mom was putting away all the folded clothes when I saw her bras. I thought to myself, ‘wow!’ and I quickly wore on my head like a cap and put one around my neck and paraded around the room. My mother couldn’t stop laughing although I wondered why. I still couldn’t figure out what this bowl-like thing is for?
Playtime is the best part of my day. My mother would always plan my day way ahead. She would decide what fun activities we need to do today. She keeps me really busy with painting, coloring, reading, lego, blocks and a whole lot more. But you know what is the best part. The kitchen. I find it to be an amusement park. So many little silver coloured bowls, spoons, pots, and pans. I can spend hours there if I had my way.
The onion and potato shelf is my happy place. I love collecting a couple of onions and hiding them under my Dadi’s pillow. She discovers them at night when she is going to sleep. She obviously knows it is me. The next day I would tell her it was her birthday present.
There is one thing I really don’t understand. If we are allowed to scribble on paper, why can’t we scribble on the walls? I mean come’ on!! It can be so much fun! We have the whole house, so many white walls that need to be coloured!
Also, there was this one time when I accidentally saw my dad stand and pee. I saw him from the back. I was so taken aback. I asked him, “Why are you standing, why aren’t you sitting?” I also did the actions of sitting and standing in front of him so he would understand me better. Unfortunately, I did get an answer.
One day, I heard Mom say ‘the f word’. I started giggling because I liked the sound of it. I walked around the house saying the f word for a couple of minutes. Poor Mom freaked! She quickly took me away to the bedroom and immediately started talking the first thing that came to her head.
I don’t like to sleep in the afternoon. I’d rather spend that time playing. In my brain, if the sun is out you shouldn’t sleep. I make sure I keep mom on her toes throughout the day. But by late evening I get cranky. I need to recharge. At times I burst into tears because I can’t express what I’m feeling. But somehow Mom understands and she knows what I need.
Usually, I eat an early dinner and I’m off to bed. But I need to have my teddy by my side. He helps me sleep better. And of course I need Mom to read me a bedtime story.
Sometimes I can say really weird things. To start with, one day I asked Mom “why do you have pink toenails?”
“ Because they look nice,” she said.
“Even I will paint my toenails and then I'll become a toddler.”
Another time, my sister was crying and Mom told me to go play with her.
“I don’t want to play with her,” I said.
“Why?” asked Mom.
“Because I don’t want to become her mother,” I replied.
In my toddler world, there is never a dull moment. I can ramble on and on about my love for balloons, my love for my elder brother’s toys which I find absolutely much better than mine, my evenings spent at the park, my adventures of poop, bird watching, muddy puddles, wondering where the moon comes from, booing my dad every time I see him, obviously driving my mom insane and a whole lot more. I’m really going to miss my toddler days. Time flies but I’m sure I would make the most of it.