Peter Peter

Here's a 15 second video of Vivian singing Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater from back in November. You may have to turn the volume up.

Dueling Violins

We met with Simran and Jeanne to swap Christmas gifts a few days before Christmas. After a dinner of fafafels from the Phoenician Market, we sat down to listen to Simran play the violin. Simran has gotten good - even to my untrained ears. After a few bars she was joined by Vivian with her violin. Vivian's violin is one of those toy contraptions with strings and a bow but it also plays electronically recorded versions of popular nursery rhymes.

Vivian watched Simran and tried to imitate her. Soon Simran was helping her and playing the same tunes on her violin. At one point, Simran was showing Vivian how to hold the violin. She said "make your hand like the letter C" when Jo dryly reminded her that Vivian didn't know what the letter C looked like. It was all quite cute.

Christmas in the Ozarks

Sixteen of us including nine kids were stuck with each other in a large house in the Ozarks for five nights. It was great to see the fam. And we had a lovely white Christmas. Here are some pictures:
We hiked a little, played scrabble, read books, went into "town", celebrated Carol's birthday, ate Christmas dinner, opened white elephant gifts, and drank margaritas.

Oh - and we yelled at the kids. Three floors and nine bedrooms wasn't big enough when the kids got around each other. There was some talk about doing this again next year - over Facebook from the comfort of our own homes.

The 2009 Christmas Letter

This year I read a book where the author conveyed the essence of the book in six words printed on the front cover. This inspired me to re-think the 2009 Christmas Letter in 16 words:

"Vivian talks a lot. Travels well. Loves school. Likes people especially boys. Wants sister. Merry Christmas."

-arun
ps. details follow....

At the end of 2008, Vivian could say things like "Mommy neck'ace". By the middle of this year, she was telling a sales woman at Tiffany's "I'd like to see some diamond necklaces". In February she recited Twinkle Twinkle, which remained her favorite song till Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater edged it out in Fall. By March she could sing the alphabet song. In May she pretended to read me a story from Newsweek:

"Daddy I read you a story. One upon a time there was a clock. And one upon a time daddy went to sleep. And mommy went to sleep. And I went to sleep. And then the clock woke everybody up."

Now she says things like "Mommy - is it appropriate to talk here?" after leaving the library, and "Daddy - can I have some privacy please" when she is in the bathroom, and "Let's do a sensory walk" after coming home from school one day. She listens intently when Jo and I talk to each other, and if she doesn't understand, she usually asks. In so many ways, it feels like we are living with an adult.

2009 was Vivian's year to stimulate the travel industry. Vivian visited friends and family in Savannah, Florida, Houston, New Orleans, Arizona, Nebraska, Rhode Island, Philadelphia, New York city, the British and American Virgin Islands, Hyderabad, Delhi, and several other places that she transited through or visited on day trips. She understands trains, planes, rental cars, ferries, sail boats, taxi cabs, subways, buses, pilots, passports, tickets, and airports like a pro. Ask for a security check and Vivian will frisk you and pat you down.

She spent a week on a 43 foot sailboat among the lovely islands and beaches of the Caribbean and enjoyed every moment of it. And she flew for about 25 hours to India and 36 from, with a smile on her face that charmed even the most hardened flight attendants on three continents. I wish Jo and I traveled as well.

In September Vivian started "school" which opened up a whole new world of friends and teachers and amazing stuff to learn. The week before Halloween, they walked bare footed on various things like soapy water and pumpkin insides and hence the comment back at home about a "sensory walk". Soon after that, Vivian blew us all away with her rendition of "Peter Peter". And yesterday she brought tears to her Aunt Cole's eyes when she sang "Go, Tell it on the Mountain". Vivian enjoyed school so much that she'd kiss the front doors on her way in.

After she started school, she couldn't stop talking about her teacher, Ms. Mary (who is some kind of a saint - really). One day we sat down for dinner and Vivian sang "Ms. Mary had a little lamb". Then she asked what we were having for dinner. Hesitantly I replied "lamb stew" and held my breath. Vivian thought for a second and then resumed singing: "Ms. Mary had a little lamb; Daddy had a little lamb stew."

It's not that Jo or I are social hermits. But compared to Vivian we are. Vivian loves her cousins and uncles and aunts and grandma and grandpa and friends and neighbors and teachers. And she hasn't met a stranger who isn't a friend.

When we were sight-seeing in India, Vivian was mobbed by a crowd of about a hundred 12-year old school girls. They wanted to say hello and hi and touch her face and shake her hand. I guess they wanted to do it because she looked different but not different enough and she smiled and looked friendly. She took it well and handled it like a celebrity on tour. By the time we left India, Vivian had a long list of people that she was going to take back with her to America.

My school and college friends have older kids. Vivian has met several of them and adores them. Especially the boys. When she was with two 14-year olds during one trip, she'd wake up in the morning and ask "where are my boys?" During our sailing trip, one morning she announced "Daddy - I am going to marry the boys" - referring to the 30-somethings on the other boat. When I pressed for more information and didn't seem on board, she said "just a pretend marriage, Dad". And recently, Jo found her she staring in wonder at my friend's 18-year old son and saying "What a guy". Since Vivian was a baby, strangers have warned me with "Dad - she's going to be trouble" or "buy a shotgun". But this is a bit sooner than I had anticipated.

One morning in September at Dr Z's office (Jo's OB/Gyn) Vivian summarized the situation as follows: "Doctor - my mommy has a baby in her belly and it's getting bigger and bigger and I'm going to be a big sister". Since then, she has come to the firm conclusion that she's going to have a little sister. This time again we aren't finding out the gender of the baby. But Vivian acts like she knows. When I asked her if she would love him if she had a little brother, Vivian responded with "Yes. BUT we're not having a little brother. We're having a little sister."

The other day I was worrying about the world when Vivian said "Don't freak out, buddy". No reason to. 2009 has been a very good year on Planet Vivian. JoEllen, Vivian, and I wish you a very merry Christmas and a very happy 2010.

Jesus' Birthday

On the last day of school today, Vivian's class celebrated Jesus' birthday party - with cake and balloons and all (due to a prior engagement with our couch I couldn't go but Jo did). Vivian and the class sang Christmas themed songs and celebrated. When she got back I asked how it went. Vivian said that they had a nice party for Jesus. I asked if Jesus was there. She said that he was at someone else's home.

In the big scheme of things, this is good indoctrination. There is a chance, however small, that she'll remember why we celebrate Christmas during the coming orgy of gifts.

So she's running around the house and singing - with hand gestures and all:

Go, tell it on the mountain,
Over the hills and everywhere
Go, tell it on the mountain,
That Jesus Christ is born.

It's very cute. Here's a mind experiment. What would I think if she ran around the house in a burka singing "Allahu Akbar"?

What Boat?

If you look at the picture of Vivian and Narahari at the very end of the last (chronologically previous) post, and look carefully above Narahari's head, you can see a picture in the next room. It's a photograph of my mom that's resting on top of an armoire in my Dad's house. I took it the last time I saw her alive and conscious - which was a couple of years before Jo and I were married. When we got to my dad's home, I showed the picture to Vivian and explained that this was her grandma Bina after whom she got her middle name. Vivian looked up at the picture and turned around to look at Jo and me and said "Oh yes. She came to visit us on the boat".

I asked "What boat?".

As if stating the obvious, she patiently replied "When we were sailing, daddy".

So I did write in this very blog some months back "[Vivian,] between the DNA and the memories, you will surely know your Didi". Hmmm, Mama - care to explain?

Socially Speaking

What happens when a very social child melds with a very social culture?

At the Qutb Minar in Delhi, a family of sight-seeing Gujaratis from Surat gathered around Vivian and entertained her for a while. Pictures were taken with various members of the family. Polite smiles were sent our way and in the end we even communicated in a few sentences of broken (from my end) Gujarati. Vivian didn't mind strangers picking her up and Jo quickly got used to it.


Humayun's Tomb must have been on the school field-trip circuit that morning. We ran into a line of a few hundred school girls on the way in. They waved and said hello, but were quickly shushed by their teacher. About fifteen minutes later, they came upon Vivian again - this time minus teacher. When they spotted Vivian, they were about a hundred feet away, on the other side of a pool with a fountain. At first they approached in an orderly line. But then their steps quickened into a run and finally a sprint which ended with a hundred girls clamoring and touching and trying to pick Vivian up. I managed to grab a picture before I had to put the camera away and hoist Vivian up on my shoulders.

The funny thing was that Vivian wasn't spooked or upset or even surprised. She just waved and smiled. On the way out, we ducked around some cars in the parking lot to get Vivian into our rental but not before a few hundred more girls spotted her and gave her a rousing farewell. Jo said "this is what it must be like to travel with Brad Pitt".

Back in Hyderabad I took Vivian to the bank with me. While my dad and I were conducting business with the bank manager, a woman (who I correctly assumed was another bank employee) came and took Vivian. When I went looking for her, I found her holding court at some one's desk. Most of the other bank workers had abandoned their posts and were standing around and entertaining or watching her while customers patiently waited or joined in.


The last picture is of Vivian and Narahari. Background: Narahari is my dad's man Friday. His uncle had helped raise my brother and me when we were kids. After he died, my dad provided employment for his son and his nephew. Narahari came to stay with us and work around the house when he was a lad. Now he is married with two teen kids who my parents helped raise.

Vivian loved Narahari's family. If it was left to Urmila, Narahari's wife, Vivian would never have to set foot on the floor or pick up a spoon. She carried Vivian everywhere and picked every flower in the garden for her. And their daughter, Quiny, was Vivian's special friend. Vivian would ask for her every morning as soon as she woke up at 4am (due to jet lag). Quiny isn't a morning person. So we'd tell Vivian that Quiny wouldn't be awake for several more hours. But soon Quiny was waking up at the crack of dawn to play with Vivian.

And in the three decades or so that I have known Narahari, I have never seen him smile. Ever. He couldn't stop smiling this time.

Roll Over Qutb-ud-din

Last year in December we wanted to go to India. On Nov 26 Muslim terrorists struck several spots in Bombay and killed about 200 people. They targeted westerners, specially those from the the great Satan. So we didn't go then.

But almost exactly a year later we went. Vivian was woefully jet lagged. She still had a blast. She partied till 3am, visited the markets and malls and selected her own sparkly shoes and sparkly dresses, ate custard apple and papaya, chatted with everyone, and slipped very naturally into her superstar mode.
In these pictures, Vivian is making her silly face in front of the Qutb Minar (the 12th century tower built to commemorate Qutb-ud-din's victory over the Rajputs), is standing in front of Iltutmish's tomb, and is inviting us into Humayun's Tomb (Humayun's grandson built the Taj Mahal. Yes - there are a lot of dead people in Delhi).

Old cloisters from Jain temples surround the Qutb minar and create a nice large sunny plaza. Vivian strode out into the plaza, did her "I'm so excited" dance (which is when I took the above picture), and then mentioned to Jo that she had been here before. Then she waved her hand to encompass the land around us and said "I built aaall this".

Back at Home

Due to jetlag from a 11-hour time zone change, it's three weeks since Vivian has slept normally. She's getting over it and woke up at 645am this morning. She watched Backyardigans with Jo and then helped me fix breakfast. As she sat on my lap finishing the last few raisins in her oatmeal, she pointed to the floor and said: "This is a hardwood floor".

Mind you - not just "a wood floor" but "a hardwood floor". When she says things like that I have to dig deeper to find out where she got this new nugget of information. So I asked "How did you know it is hardwood?"

"Because I fell down on it".

Reunion

A very very special thanks to all for the reunion. I can't express in words what it felt like to see each one of you walk into 10D on that Friday evening (I tried to write this post with a lot more text 3 times before scrapping it). Vivian - if you get a chance to hang with dear friends years and years from now, drop everything and hurry half way around the world to meet them.


The last picture - as you can see - is just me. But those who were there will know why it's here.