The outdoor fantasy

Going out of the house is now an eternal desire. Varun wakes up, can barely open his eyes, and when I've held him up he rubs his eyes and looks at me lovingly, like I am the perfect person to have this conversation with right now, and says "udhar".

Which technically means anywhere other than here; "here" meaning this house. And if you take him to the door, which has hidden mysteries behind it every single day, he will look at you and say, "tata?".

Nothing to do with the Indian multinational family named business; the sum total of his interest in business is about what ingenious ways he can get us to play his rhymes. Note that these are not just rhymes anymore. They have pervaded to the very interior of my subconsciousness, such that when I'm dreaming I dream of Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, and ring-a-ring of roses; all in that silly tune that plays itself over and over again in my head, causing my brain to turn to jelly. Which explains the endless rambling in this post, but hey, what do you care, you've already read till here, haven't you.

And rhymes are bait for anything. Food. Iron drops. (which S will soon remember I forgot to give yesterday) General sit still for five minutes entertainment.

In the end, when he's so tired he can barely stand, and he's now sat down and looked at his rhymes book (of course there's a rhymes book) and torn a few more pages, played with his fingers, analysed the stars out of the window and such major winding down activity, he will stand up and look at us with copious amounts of love.

And smile. And walk slowly, and surely, towards me or S. (who am I kidding. Mommy is far more important) And say the words we have learnt to absolutely adore.

"tata?"