Ryan walks up to me and hands me his picture book. I know the routine. I ask him where the pictures are and he points them out.
I applaud after each successful match. I applaud for some wrong matches too (like when I ask for ‘Daddy’, and he points to the picture of a horse).
“Where’s the crying baby?”
Ryan points to the picture of a bald baby who is clearly pissed off about something.
“Umm…where’s the yawning baby?”
Ryan points at the picture of a child yawning.
We go through more pictures. I know them all by now, and probably so does he. But repetition is the key. Supposedly, parents should teach their children in two ways – repetition and routine. I am inexcusably terrible at both.
“Where is Amma?” I ask.
He points at me.
“Where is Ryan?” This is a new one. Off the “syllabus’ question. He thinks for a minute.
Correct answer: Ryan should apply some toddler logic and point to himself.
Ryan’s answer: He walks towards me with his arm outstretched. And places a tiny palm on my chest. I like to believe he meant to touch my heart. As if he hadn’t done so a 1000 thousand times before.
“Inside here?” I ask, pointing at my heart.
He nods, smiling now.
“Yes baby, you are absolutely right!”
Lesson of the Day (for Amma): “The correct answer is not necessarily the best answer”