Me: “Ayaan”
Ayaan: “Yes”
Me: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Ayaan: “When I grow up, I will be a man with a moustache”

Umm, I suppose it counts as ambition.

Me: “You know, if you don’t listen to your father then your kids won’t listen to you”
Safya: “But you listen to your parents”
Me: “Of course”
Safya: “Then how come your daughter doesn’t listen to you”

Umm, argh!  I was about to go into if A follows B then not_A doesn’t necessarily follow not_B, but I think it’s beyond her age. 

Ayaan went to buy cereal with me and picked this one.  “What is it called”, he asked.  “Captain Crunch”, I replied.

When we got home he raised the cereal box and yelled out in pure excitement: “Everyone, come.  Quick. I brought Christmas home.  Captain Christmas”.

Me: “Once upon a time there was a dog…”
Ayaan: “Did I see it?”
Me: “No”
Ayaan: “But I want to see it”
Me: “okay, you saw it”
Ayaan: “Were you there?”
Me: “Sure.  So we were walking and we saw the dog”
Ayaan: “And I saw it too?”
Me: “I wont tell the story if you keep interrupting!”
Ayaan: “I wont interrupt any more”
Me: “Then …”
Ayaan: “I will not talk”
Me: “Good”
Ayaan: “I will listen to the story quietly”
Me: “Good”
Ayaan: “I won’t say anything”
Me: “So the dog…”
Ayaan: “what was his name?”
Me: “I don’t know”
<Pause>
Ayaan: “Tell me the story”
Me: “So I saw a dog”
Ayaan: “Where was I when you saw it?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAH!  Story time isn’t supposed to be this stressful. 

Hamza scolding Safiya: "You pacifically saw me and you purposely on purpose closed the door!”

Wife: “Are teenagers the most annoying group?”
Me: “No”
Wife: “Then who is?”
Me (jokingly): “Wives”
Wife: “Because I told the kids teens were the most annoying group, ask anyone”
Me: “No, wives”
Wife: “Because they never listen”
Me: “WIVES”
Wife: “Because they just don’t pay attention”
Me, really slowly: “Wiiiiivvvvvveeeessss”
Wife: “…Cuz they don’t listeennnnnn”
Me, spelling: “W.I.V.E.S”
Wife: “Oh”

Safya: “When you fall in love, do you get dizzy and faint?”
”No”
Safya: ”Then how do you know you are in love?”

One day I have 150 twitter followers, the next it goes down to 149.  One day my facebook page is liked by 70 people, I check again and it’s down to 68.

Was it something I said?  Don’t you like me anymore?  Am I boring now?  Did I hurt your feelings?  If you are going to ‘unlike’ my page, at least tell me what I did.  Oh why won’t you tell me?  Wait, if you aren’t following me then you aren’t reading this. 

Does it help if I tell you every time someone ‘un-likes’ this page, the terrorists win?  It’s my hair, isn’t it?  ISN’T IT? 

My kids have destroyed my brain cells. I have no wit left.

My wife calls me ridiculous. In my head the conversation went like this:
Wife: “You are ridiculous”
Me: “Ya, ridiculously good looking”

However, the neurons got confused on the way to my tongue and in real life, these words came out of my mouth:
Wife: “You are ridiculous”
Me: “Umm, my face is ridiculously good looking”

It just didn’t work like it did in my head.  Stupid disconnect between my brain and my mouth. 

Ayaan’s been referring to people by the colour of their clothes.  The guy with a red shirt becomes “the red guy” and the girl with yellow pants becomes the “yellow girl”.

Imagine my horror when at a grocery store we see an interracial couple (the girl with darker pigmentation had black shirt and the Caucasian guy had white shirt on).  Ayaan points at them and yells out: “look, black girl and white guy.” 

I so wanted the Earth to swallow me at that moment. 

Ayaan (while watching soccer): “Who are you cheating for?”
Me: “I am not cheering for anyone. I am just enjoying the game”
Ayaan: “I am cheating for the red guy”
Me: “Red guy is not playing, he’s the ref”
Ayaan: “He is running, I am cheating for him”
Me: “He is running so he can make sure everyone is playing nicely”
Ayaan: “No, running is playing. I am cheating for the ref”

<pause>

Ayaan: “Go REF Go”

Safiya, during a doll “fashion show”: “Lilly is a year older than Layla, but they are still twins”

Ouch, poor mom. 

Me: “What kind of eggs do you want”

”Omelettes”
”scrambled eggs”
”while and yellow”
”I don’t want vegetables in mine”
”I want veggies”
”I only want onions”
”I hate onions”
”Can I have cheese in mine”
”Eiw, I don’t want cheese”
”I love cheese”
”I do too, but not in eggs”

Me: “Kids!!!!”
”Yes”
Me: “We are  having cereal for breakfast”
”Yay!!!!”

Tantrums are perfectly natural, and I am not talking about kids. It’s therapeutic. I believe throwing tantrums has actually slowed down my hair-loss. 

Take a pillow to the bathroom, put your face on the pillow and let it out.  Let it all out.  There, there.  There, now.  Let it out. 

Hamza just came downstairs for the gazillionth time when he was supposed to be sleeping. 

Me: “Why are you down now?”
Hamza: “I have many shadows and they are all doing different things”
Me: “Close your eyes and  you won’t see them”
Hamza: “Do your shadows go away when you are in deep sleep?”

Sadly I couldn’t answer it considering I haven’t really slept since 2002.  At least he’s no longer worried about an asteroid hitting the planet.

Don’t spank your kids, but don’t feel guilty if you some times really want to. 

There are two types of parents: those who at one point or another have really fought the urge to do some serious spanking and those who lie about having the urge to spank.  

Do control the urge, spanking doesn’t work, but don’t feel guilty for thinking about it.   

Trying to maintain a clean house with a couple of kids is like trying to fight a full-grown Hippo with toothpicks.  Not only you can’t win, you cannot even imagine it in your wildest dreams.  Stressing over it will only accelerate your hair loss (exhibit A: <you cannot see it but I am pointing at my head>). 

Safiya: “Ouch, it hurts”
Me: “What happened?”
Safiya: “I accidentally bit my pinky toe”

How … umm … but … uh … never mind.