Memories of conversations or snippets of conversations come randomly, when I'm going about my day. I replay them in my mind, laughing, smiling, cringing or just shaking my head at the memory. Here are some that have been clamoring for attention lately.
A few weeks ago D and I were cuddling in bed. I reached across, under her head, to hold my husband's hand. D grabbed it, pulled it right back to her and said, "That's my hand!" I said, "D, that's not your hand, that's Mama's hand." She replied, "I know it's your hand. But it's my hand." How do you quarrel with such logic?
When C was about 5 and he had just returned from school we were talking about friends and family. He summed up the conversation this way, "Familyship is more important than friendship."
D wanted some more yogurt. She had already eaten some of the plain variety, so I asked her if she wanted the strawberry yogurt. "No," she said, "pink yogurt is for boys."
Just before she fell asleep one night D said, "Mama, I love you." Then, very slowly, "You. are. my. best. spider. ever."
Two years after we got married, my husband and I still hadn't had children. We were too busy with school, work, play, trying to find our bearings in a new country. In the interim, we fielded numerous weekend calls from India, from parents and in-laws, all wanting to know if there was any "good news." One day, my dad finally scrunched up all his worry into a pithy one-liner and asked, "Is this a personal decision or is this by god's decree?" I had a good laugh before I assured him it was the former. They all had to wait a good six more years after that, which I must say they did admirably.
When he was about 3 C and I were driving back home in the middle of the afternoon. I asked him a question and I did not hear a reply. So I turned back to look and he was nodding off. I didn't want him to fall asleep in the car, so I called out his name and asked him what he was doing. "I'm thinking, Mama. I'm thinking."
I was putting D to sleep one day and she wanted a drink of water.
D: Mama, can I have some water?
Me: Sure, D (not moving to get her some, wanting to see what she would do).
A couple of seconds later.
D: Do we have water here?
Me: Yeah, we do.
D: Can I have some?
Me: Sure (still not moving).
A few more seconds.
D (exasperated): Right now!
D finishes about three-quarters of a rather ripe banana and says she doesn't want anymore because "it's too banany."