...Continued To: Aarush

As I mentioned in the last post, over the time span of two and a half years (almost three years) of Aarush, I’ve gathered too many clues that now I’m carrying them forward to this post as well.

(Hidden Motive: I can bait him in future to read my blog to know more about his childhood)

Overall, I can say he is a smart kid and I’m not saying this because he stands in a near relation to me. But because once when I met a kid, I asked him his age generally. He ran crashing down to his mother asking what his age was. It was only after his mother told him that he’s three-and-a-half-year-old that he could answer me. 

But Aarush knows it from the time when he was about to turn two. (That is a different thing that now I find it difficult to teach him that he’s going to be three; after making him repeat several times after me when I ask him again he says, “Two”)

He already knows who’s stuff it is: the blankets, the combs, the clothes; and this is when, sometimes, even I get confused whose dress it is and on asking he tells it belongs to so-and-so. 

If you ask him to count the number of things, doesn’t matter what the actual number is, he would count straight up till 10, non-stop.

Once I went to the playground with him, he asked me what a certain object was, underestimating his knowledge I answered, “It’s a ball,” he immediately corrected me, “No, it’s a football,” with a wide smile on his face as if he already knew and was testing me.

He is a 2.5-year-old just to say; otherwise, he is clever enough to disturb me if I’m reading some stuff. He follows my eyes, making out which article I’m reading and then deliberately places his hand on that paragraph to block my vision. He knows how to unlock each phone at our home; the ones with side lock button, the others with the centre lock button, which direction to slide to unlock on which phone.

His art is growing day by day

The other day, fed up of difficulties of life, I said to him “Aarush, don’t grow up. Life is difficult.” I wasn’t expecting a reply for I didn’t say it to get one but he says, “Even I find it difficult.” 

Did I tell you how perfect his Punjabi accent is, even more than any of us? The way he stresses a particular part of the word to make it sound like proper Punjabi.

A few weeks back, our TV remote got lost and the prime suspect was him. I kept asking him, “Where have you placed the remote?” he would say, “On the TV”. After a few days, we found it stuck by the side of the TV stand. He wasn’t lying it must have gotten misplaced.

Just in case, you have started thinking of him as a super kid here are his silly-bits.
As I told you earlier he is always eager to help so I asked him to bring an apple from the fridge. I went along with him to stop him from fidgeting with the other stuff of the fridge and I see him sliding his hand into a bag carrying tomatoes. Poor kid. 

He hates to drink anything coloured white (for it can possibly be milk) but I wanted him to taste buttermilk. So, I held the glass up so that he couldn’t see the contents of it and asked if he was thirsty. He nodded and I quickly put the spoon full of buttermilk in his mouth; his expression was worth watching, he must have felt betrayed.

Another time, I found some fragrant sticks lying at our home for years so I started lighting them. I would place them at different places on different days. One day, I saw him jumping with his finger pointing up saying, “There it is, there it is” but the funny part is that it wasn’t there that day; it was there the last day. He must have smelt it and thought it was at the same place as it was the last day.

Once I took his ball, hid it and pretended that his toy tiger has eaten it. Then I made him look like the tiger has vomited his ball out. He actually believed it; on asking him where his ball was gone he reiterated the event.

PS I feel like that obsessed mom whom whenever you meet talks about her kid only.

PPS He is the reason for my blog posts getting delayed.