Excerpt from the life of...

On the way to the toilet, I noticed Ruatfeli has scrawnier verions of my terrible legs.

'Do you want legs like Mummy or beautiful legs?'
'Beautiful legs!'
'Really? Don't you want legs just like mummy's?'
'No, I want beautiful legs, like Barbie's.'

Unsubdued laughter from dad in the bedroom.

The big 'L' and other things.

I've gone back to learning how to drive again. 'Again' being the operative word. So the silver A-star with a big, red 'L' on it is mine. I'm wondering if I should buy red electrical tapes in dozens, or buy a small can of red paint, either one could be a good investment.

I've improved quite a bit since my last learning episode. But taxis are the bane of my existence. They stop wherever they like, be it at the curve of a steep incline or just before a blind turn, you name it, they do it. And their crazy passengers open car doors whenever it suits them too. Some incessantly honk when I stop, making me even more nervous. Pedestrians make life hard for me too - chatting while walking slowly side by side, while I am haplessly trying to go as slowly as possible without the engine dying on me.  A seasoned driver would handle everything with ease, but me, I am definitely a slow learner, and sometimes I wonder why I try at all.

Onto brighter things. Feli can say most anything now. Yesterday she looked me square in the eye, pointed her forefinger at me, and asked me in all seriousness, 'I zun a chhuak em?'. I said 'No'. Then, in the same manner - 'I ek a chhuak em?'. I could hardly control my laugh, I guess she learned it from me. I have to constantly tell her, 'Lem tawh rawh' when she's having her meal. Somedays, I'd take her to the toilet, and she'd take her own sweet time, and I'd keep urging her to go, and I'd catch myself saying 'Lem rawh, lem rawh' at the loo. She'd tell her U Thlatei, 'Thlate, i cho rual ka ni hleinem', from the song 'Ka pi zunah maw..'. She's definitely loveable, but she could be turning out to be a little of a brat.

Malsawmtluanga birthday lawmna

A ngaihsan em em, 'milem' te nen

Ruatsanga, on the other hand, bears the brunt of his sister's ire. She was getting adjusted to him, but now that he can laugh, wave bye bye etc, her jealousy to him has resurfaced, with a vengeance! She swipes at him in passing, and sometimes in a more calculated way. If he is engrossed with a toy, it has to be instantly removed. I lectured her for half an hour one night, and after listening intently about how small and fragile her brother is, she goes, 'Kei chu bauh bauh te, miau miau te ka duat'. He was crawling on the floor one day, and she stepped carefully on his hand. In a hurry, I shouted 'A ke i rap a nia!'. She looked at me, and in all righteousness said, ' A ni lo, a ni lo, a KUT alawm'. Huiham. One day, he too shall have his revenge!

Nui mawi! :)