Random Sanidhisms

Me: Sanidh, what's a conversation?
Sanidh: When people are talking and I interrupt - that's a conversation.
Me: Bingo
3/20/2013
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Me: Sanidh, what's your favorite flower?
Sanidh: My mom, of course.
Me : *grin*
3/22/2013
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Sanidh: Mom, why is 'full-stop' called full-stop?
Me: Because the sentence comes to a full stop.
Sanidh: Why is there no 'half-stop', then?
Me: ???
3/23/2013

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Me: Sanidh, will you do me a favour, sweetheart?
Sanidh: I can do anything for you, Mom. Just anything.
Me: Anything? Like what?
Sanidh: Like climb a mountain, swim across the ocean. Anything, Mom
Me: *swoons*
3/27/2013

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Sanidh: Mom, what do they eat in Japan?
Me (mindlessly): Sushi
Sanidh: What is in Sushi?
Me: Fish. Lots of fish.
Sanidh (after a pause): But there must be something vegetarian that they eat in Japan

This is where I usually sit up and take notice
4/9/2013

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Of Words And More...

What happened this morning was pretty much amazing. 

Most of my life is lived in my head. Between the written word and snatches of conversations. If my life be eternal, books form its ancient soul. Isn't it but natural, then, that I surrounded my son with books even when he hadn't arrived. I had a clear idea of the books he'd read each year, the conversations we'd have, the parts we'd love. 

And then he came. Unlike any other I have known. Stubborn, demanding to live life on his own terms. Challenging every notion I had - of propriety, of childhood, and parenthood. Not inclined to read a single book if he could have his way. I despaired, I cried, worried myself sick. What kind of kid hates the Faraway Tree? How spectacularly I have been failing to interest him in anything to do with imagination!!! How, how, how, was my child this mathematically inclined? What had I done? Where had I gone wrong? Seven agonizing years - hundreds of books - wasted pains.

I woke at 5.30 am, my body alarm attuned to workdays - schooldays. A whisper "Mom, today's a Saturday? No school?" I mumbled "Yes, love. Go back to sleep". I woke again at 7 am - one of those beautiful things that I call 'Almost Heaven'. And he looked up and smiled brightly. "Good morning, mom. I been reading 'coz I didn't feel sleepy. Did you know your brain works and blood flows even when you sleep?" Tears started to sting my eyes. He'd been reading? A book of science. A book nonetheless. A book? He'd been reading? And then he said "So what should I take to get to Pluto - a train, an aeroplane, a jet plane, or a rocket?" Happiness. Joy. That is what I take, son. And then he said "Let me read to you..."

Lessons

My 7 yr old and I had a long, long chat about life and times to come. I assumed my sermonic best and taught him four lessons -

• There will be happy times, and sad times, good times and tough times, laughter and tears - none of it will last forever.

• You are forever protected. My your mother's blessings, grandmother's love and God's grace.

• You were an answer to fervent prayers. You shall be the one thing that made your mother's life worthwhile. You are precious. Don't ever believe anything less.

• There is God in your heart, in you. Be kind and compassionate as befits the God in you.

He nodded, smiled, and promptly fell asleep. I was left with the distinct impression that my mom would have wanted me to believe precisely those very statements.