About a boy

One probably doesn't want to read another post about how stupid people are, but they seem to be coming out of my ears.

The lady who teaches The Boy swimming -- it's hardly a swimming lesson; they just make them float up and down with one parent (N goes, I can't swim and even though that doesn't really matter, I didn't want to pass on my insecurities in the water to The Boy), do some freestyle stroke motions with their hands and then towards the end one head-dip in the pool -- so the lady in one day probably has to deal with a lot of crying babies and anxious parents who don't let her do her job properly. But yet I thought it was too out of context when she started giving us a lecture on how Indian and Russian parents can't see their baby cry, even though she wasn't teaching our baby at the time and it wasn't our baby who was crying at the time. This other kid that she had with her was bawling his balls out and she started giving us a lecture. I swear, the whole time I thought that the parents whose baby it was were Russian. They weren't.

Anyway, nothing NOTHING not.a.thing has been happening. We missed a vacation to Athens because The Boy fell ill. I used to feel really bad about this sort of thing earlier, but it was the third time this time that this happened. So I believe N was more upset than me because it was during the time that we were packing to leave the next morning that The Boy had a terrible terrible bout of coughing and we thought he couldn't breathe etc. that we decided not to go.

The best thing is that he says "daddy" more than he says "mamma" so in the time that we had him sleep in our room, he'd wake up at 6.45-7am and utter a loud whisper (because he'd lost his voice during the laryngitis) "Daddy!" and I'd just roll over and say to N, "he's calling you", and N would be so thrilled that The Boy, for this one time, wanted him and not me, he'd run to pick him out of the cot.

So the extreme guilt has started recently because The Boy has an immense capability of pissing both of us off, and I sometimes give him one "chapat" on his head, and he understands that it's different from when we're playing and that I'm super serious and he starts crying so loudly. But the poor guy throws up his hands at me wanting to be soothed by the very person who made him cry in the first place.

They bear no grudge at this age, and that's a relief. I'm sure soon enough he's going to be hitting us back and not missing a single opportunity to tell us he hates us.

So yay! till that happens.