My Debbil Woman

Puddi has well and truly hit the terrible twos. Until then, she was a high-spirited sprite. Now she's a strong-willed little brat who has a daily battle with dinner. God knows why the first signs of rebellion always have to do with food - her brother was the same, and has only recently begun to eat like people again, otherwise he used to eat less than an ant needs to stay alive ( touch wood). So this chile, who used to gobble up her food and ask everyone who came to the park for their snacks, as if she was a starvation victim, now turns up her nose at dinner every single day. It doesn't matter what's cooked for dinner, whether it's her favourite dahi-chawal, pulao, rotis with ghee, sandwiches, parathas...everything's passe.

Of course, having been through the process once, I try and stay cool about it. But day after day of not eating dinner surely can't be good, especially when the little girl wakes up in the middle of the night complaining about stomach-ache brought on by the empty stomach. So yesterday I decided to take on the battle, little realising that this would be my Waterloo. Started off by giving her pulao and dahi. The dahi got eaten up while the pulao was stirred around the plate and smeared on the table for good measure. Got someone to take away the plate and decided to initiate Puddi into the art of time-outs. I gave her 2 minutes of time out standing at the balcony door and looking out at the dark night outside. Two minutes are up, but Puddi is quite happy to be standing there - she thinks it's a new game and says, "Puddi nahi hai. kahaan chali gayi?"

Gah! Bring her back to the table, and this time mix the dahi into the pulao, hoping that'll do the trick. Nope, not even one morsel goes through those rosebud lips. I decide on another time out, in her playroom this time, leave her in and shut the door. Peer in half a minute later to see if she's upset since I don't hear any noise, which is usually a sign of danger. Nope - she's sitting on the mattress looking around the room, cool as a cucumber. Okay, drastic measures are called for, I think and switch off the light. No reaction. I bring her out since I panic at the thought of her sitting in a dark room.

Try again - this time plain dahi-chawal. No response. Give her a time-out on the balcony this time. Put her out and watch anxiously through the window. The child doesn't move a hair, she happily stares around at the dark night sky, the tree outside, the broken flowerpot...I give up. Bring her in, clear up dinner and let her putter around. She plays happily, while I slump, defeated, arms locked behind me in Napoleonic imitation. I'll have to exile meself, methinks!

Just to give you a glimpse of how much attitude she can throw:

The Terrible Twos

Let me start by confessing that I have a terrible temper - hot and peppery, likely to go off any time, about anything. A long-term association with A ( 14 years and counting...) has mellowed me a bit but I can still lose it at the drop of a hat. Sadly enough, I seem to have passed this on to Chubbocks. He started life as a really easy kid, good-tempered, smiley - everyone who saw him used to say, "You have such a happy child".

When he was about 6 months old we had gone to Jaipur and randomly met an astrologer type at Chokhi Dhani where we were staying. That guy looked at Chubbocks horoscope and said he will be a 'Royal Philosopher'. We exchanged quizzical glances and he then explained that Chubbocks would be a guy who followed the beat of his own drum and do whatever he wanted to do. He could not be led. Well, that sounds good, we though innocently - he'll have a mind of his own. We found out differently when he started the terrible twos.

He started having such terrible tantrums, that almost nothing helped. He would get his mind fixated onto something and he would stand and holler for it until the roof came down. I would start out trying to calm him down, quickly lose it and then poor A used to be rushing from one to the other trying to calm both parties down. Time-outs didn't work - at the very mention of a Time out, he would start screaming even harder. Locking his toys away didn't have any impact - he would start throwing the ones that weren't locked up around the room. Smacks were doled out aplenty but they resulted in more screaming and after some time I decided I didn't want my child to be afraid of me, so I promised him and myself that I would never raise my hand against him - which I am proud to say I have kept, though it's darn tough at times.

Neither pleading and cajoling, nor screaming nor reasoned arguments worked. Once he had woken up at night to pee, and I wanted him to sit on the pot to do it. For some bizarre reason this sent him into an absolute frenzy and he started kicking and yelling loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood long after he had finished, and refused to come out of the loo. A and I finally told him, fine you stay in there and shut the door, hoping that would bring him to his senses. Nope. When we opened the door five minutes later, he started screaming all over again, "Leave me here. Shut the door. Go away!" For a child of 2 years and some months, I have to say this was some show of willpower - it was winter and cold and pitch dark in the loo. I was pregnant with Puddi at the time and dying for some sleep, so finally A hauled him out of the loo kicking and screaming and took him downstairs while I slept ( I was a Kumbhakaran during my second pregnancy). Chubbocks started the tantrums at 10:30 pm at night, and carried on till 7 am the next morning, when he fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion! Even now when A and I remember it, it seems unbelievable to us, but we lived through it.

To Chubbocks' credit is the fact that 90% of his tantrums took place at home, not when we were out. But the terrible twos is about the time parents lose all vestiges of shame they may ever have possessed and learn to walk through malls and parties alike with head held high while a screaming, howling, possessed little demon clings like a barnacle to their legs yelling "No" or "I won't" at the top of its sizeable lungs. We visited my sister around this time in the US, and she used to be horrible embarrassed when Chubbocks had one of his meltdowns and we wanted to carry on with whatever sightseeing or shopping we had come out for. It's only now when my nephew is going through his TTs that she's understood what that is all about. Frankly, if you wait for your child to only be in a good mood to step out of the house, you won't see sunshine for a good two years!

Thankfully, Chubbocks has crossed the TT milestone a while back and has reverted back to his sweet, good-natured self for the most part, though his temper can still flare up quite easily...aah the things you inherit. Puddi again has been a sunshiny looney tune so far but as she nears her 2nd birthday, is starting to show signs of a temper. Either she'll say 'Nai' when something is denied, or let out a short, shrill scream. When she's a little more bugged, she has started a bad habit of hitting me, which I am trying to discourage by smacking her right back or having a time-out - not talking to her for a minute or two and telling her so. Her big tantrums are seriously funny - she flings herself with great force down on the ground, having first checked that the surface is soft enough to not hurt her - on a carper or the mattress. Then she lies there, not moving, arms and legs akimbo, waiting for someone to react. When no one does, she pokes her head up and looks about indignantly. What, still no reaction? Then she just scrambles off the floor and resumes play.

But I am pretty sure the family temper has been passed down to her as well. I inherited it from my dad who got it from his mom. And on A's side, his dad and granddad have sizeable tempers, which is probably why A has learnt to be the Oracle of Calm. That's going to come in handy when all three of us screamers get into a fight, huh?