About a Boy...

This is a rambling post about Chubbocks, my first baby who's not such a baby any more.

Chubbocks has been quite amazing the last few weeks. Now when he gets dressed to go to school, he looks like a proper little schoolboy, not my little bhondu ram any more. Last weekend, his swimming lessons began. He has always loved water and I remember one time we took him swimming when he was two, he instinctively moved his arms and legs in the correct manner. But we haven't managed to be regular at the pool, between my various pregnancies and the weird summers we've been having in Delhi, more rain than sun. So when the school announced swimming lessons on weekends, we were overjoyed. All the more because last summer he fell into the deep end of the pool when we were on vacation ( details on my travel blog) and even though I pulled him out in about half a heartbeat, he has been too scared to venture inside without his water wings.

Of course, we arrived at the lessons to find the school had made a mix-up and that he was scheduled for a lesson between 3-4 pm though they had told us 4-5 pm. Anyhow, they agreed to hold the first lesson late for him and 3-4 other kids that day. He was a mixture of thrill and fear as the lifeguard lowered him in. For the first couple of minutes he clung nervously to the ladder, too scared to let go even when the instructor took hold of him. Then I encouraged him and in he went, to hold on to the side and practice kicking. I don't think this was what he had envisaged when told about swim lessons - he had thought he'd be put there doing fancy strokes in the deep end. But he was quite excited about it all the same and game for the next day's lessons. The next day, the instructor got him to try an overhead stroke...it was a hilarious sight. Our pal had obviously seen me or other people swim overarm so he busily imitated the side to side head movement but so fast that he looked dizzy, while completely forgetting to kick his legs at all. After day one, his arms and legs were aching and I told him that was a sign that he was building up his muscles. So of course, the rest of the weekend, we had to measure his biceps every five minutes or so and comment on how big they were getting. he's quite excited about the rest of his swimming lessons and I'm hoping for warm weather weekends, for the first time in my life, so they can go on apace.

He's also getting to be a big boy so on Sunday when I had to go do the grocery shopping for the month as A was laid up, I roped him in to push the second grocery cart around. I had to forewarn him that he wouldn't get to ride in the cart shaped like a car since I needed him to help me shop. He was amazingly good about it, steering his cart carefully all over the store, lugging packages back and forth to load it up and not once complaining about either being bored or tired. It was, on the other hand, shocking to see how rudely people in India treat kids. Forget anyone smiling at the plucky boy helping out, but people had no compunctions shoving their carts alongside, bumping into him and not even saying sorry, pushing his cart away and carrying on. At one point, he was coming out of an aisle, and an old gentleman was coming the other way. We had right of way since we were heading for the cash till, but this rude old guy, who must have been a sextagenarian at least, pushed his cart at Chubbocks' cart really hard, so the little guy almost fell, and pushed him all the way back into the aisle and rudely brushed on past. I've been brought up with a respect for the aged and a belief in being polite to them but in the past couple of weeks, this is the second instance when I've noticed that they aren't any more polite or well-mannered than the average Delhi-ite.

On Friday evenings, Chubbocks stays over at my parents' house. This Friday he came over to retrieve the book he had brought home from the school library. "It's very funny, mamma", he said, and sat down to read aloud the entire book to me. He has read one Ladybird beginning reader before but only with help, so it was thrilling to see him read this all by himself, with the right emphasis and intonations - I got goosebumps. Then, yesterday, we sent him up to bed in his room while we finished up our meal. We went up a good fifteen minutes after him to find him busily reading aloud to himself from a 'Caillou' book. It's a good 10-12 page book, and he was on the penultimate page when we reached. He looked up shyly, blushed but carried on till he finished it before he curled up for the night. I can't find the words to explain how amazing it makes me feel to see him reading all by himself and showing such a joy in the act of reading. For both A and me, reading is the breath of life, so it's nice to find evidence of heredity. More than that, I find myself thrilling in advance at all the wonderful adventures he has ahead of him in the world of books...It won't be long before he's reading this blog and cribbing or blushing about whatever I've said...!