Snippets about my Snippet, aka the YO

It's been a looong while since I've updated my blog and the terrible fact of the matter is that both my boys have been doing/saying blog-worthy, errr...noteworthy things.

Since my YO was down and out and fighting the viral, I thought I'd dedicate today's post to him...

The fever came on a Sunday, so obviously I didn't send him to school that Monday and needless to say, he loved it. So much so that he decided that he wasn't going to go back to school again. Ever. Ever again. The mere thought of having a five-year-old while away his hours, day in-day out, 24/7/365 for the rest of his life; and the incredible thoughts of keeping this particular five-year-old properly occupied day in-day out, 24/7/365 for the rest of his life, had me hyperventilating. Mad screams of, "What do you mean you never want to go to school again? How can you not go to school again? How can you even think it? What will you do for a living?" floated all around my head, but I refrained from bellowing these out, because after all, he's five and he was feverish and of course he was going to go back to school, because I said so! But I did think it would be interesting to hear about his future plans and so I asked him, "Babu, if you're not going to go to school and study, then what will you be when you grow up?" And pat came the reply -- "An actor!" Aaah well, my apologies to all those amazing actors who studied in NSD, Julliard and Carnegie Melon, but it seems like my little one thinks you've all wasted your time ;-p

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The YO, for all is rambunctious nature, is quite a softie. And surprisingly, very clingy. If I'm five minutes late in picking him up and if he doesn't have a friend or a familiar face to wait with, he dissolves into sobs. And Calcutta traffic being what it is, I sometimes am late.
Well, it was one of those days when I was late and the YO was sobbing. His classmate's mom, whom I'm friends with, called me and apologised saying that she couldn't stay and comfort him as she had to go and pick up her daughter from another school, but she wanted my son to hear my voice so that he would be reassured that I was nearby. I told the YO that I was a hop-skip-and-jump away, so would he please be a big boy, stop crying and wait for me. He sniffled a yes.
Of course when I got there, he was still crying, so I picked him up, took him to the canteen, sat down, wiped away his tears and calmed him down. We followed our normal routine while waiting out the next half-hour for his brother, which normally involves me feeding him the rest of his tiffin, looking through his classwork note-books and chatting about his day (gah! I just realised how typically Bong mom I sounded while typing that sentence!!) When the bell rang, I started to get up so that I could wait near the foot of the stairs, but the YO stopped me, told me to sit and he would go and wait instead -- "This is how a small boy potecks his mudder, right mamma?"
Man! It was my turn to cry -- and I didn't even ask him what he was 'potecking' me from. He was just being a gallant gentleman, but didn't know how to say it...