Motherhood Statement

When I was pregnant with our first baby, there were many things I looked forward to and equally many things I dreaded. 6 years and 3 kids down the road, it's been much easier and far more fulfilling than I could have ever imagined. Of course it has had its share of challenging moments – an all-night tantrum by first born, hospital stays for the first two and watching them with IVs going in, feeling that all too familiar mommy guilt at not spending or wanting to spend every waking minute of free time with them, hearing those terrible wails of 'mamma don't leave me', when each of the first two first saw me going in to work…But boy are the compensations fab:

1. No performance review ever sounds better: When was the last time your boss got excited just to see you come in to work?
   

Bojjandi starts gurgling and cooing and practically throws himself out of the maid's arms into mine each time he sees me. Puddi will look super-excited if I'm home when she's back from the park and rushes into the house excitedly squealing, "Mamma, you come!". Chubbocks will taste a salad or something I've whipped up, look up with his eyes round with wonder and appreciation and go, "Mamma, this is fab! How did you even make this? You're a chef!"

1. The job description is what you make of it:
   

Yesterday I got to spend a whole half hour resting my cheek against Bojjandi's soft one, feeling his chubby little hands pull out my remaining hair strand by strand and nuzzling the downy hair on his head ( yup, he's still bald). Today I and the kids lolled around, ate popcorn and watched Mary Poppins on DVD at 11 in the morning.

1. You're the boss:
   

When you say 'hop to it', they do. At least until they find out the truth – that you're putty in their little hands and that one tear or sad face is good for a whole lot of 'get out of jail free' passes.

1. You always have little helpers around:
   

Whether it's carrying a glass back to the kitchen or setting the table, reading to the younger kids, keeping an eye on the baby when he learns to roll over or scratching your back where you can't reach, you always have someone at your beck and call. And they can't quit, they work for minimum wage (a few hugs, kisses and thank-yous) and are legal workers despite being underage. Oh yeah, and the dad has to chip in too, no question about it, whereas when he was just the husband you couldn't get even a quarter of the help you do now. Of course, you do run a few risks, like having grape juice on your new yellow carpet…but I've always loved the colour purple, haven't you?

1. You can never get fired:
   

Even though there are the days when Chubbocks and I rage at each other or Puddi annoys me by doing her best to hurt herself by climbing the furniture, at the end of the day no one else can sing the family lullaby the same way, kiss just the right hurt away or know when to stop scratching their back at bedtime. No one else can be called by the same designation, no one can ever replace you.

Conversations in a foreign language

Chubbocks: Mama, you know dragonblashter is much bigger than aqua but naga is the strongest…

Me: Huh???

 

Puddi: Mama, what is thish? ( pointing to the table mat)

Me: Tablemat

Puddi: No

Me: Cloth

Puddi: No

Me(talking about the design on the table mat): Soup

Puddi: No

Me: I give up!

Puddi: It is a thish!

Bojjandi: Gurgle, gurgle…oogle oople goo…garhhhhh!

Me: Them's my sentiments, exactly!

Changes upon changes

A, typically doesn't like change and has been known to cringe each time I change my hairstyle. Me – I love it, and go out looking for change, whether it's something as simple as changing the look of the house per season or something longer-lasting. Chubbocks takes after his dad in this aspect. When we were changing over from a parent-child class to a child alone class in playschool, he just couldn't take the change. For close on a month we tried – him in the classroom, with teachers he had become accustomed to during his previous class, and us outside, steeling ourselves and wishing we could turn deaf as his distressing wails of 'Call Mamma back' pierced our hearts. We tried permutations and combinations – I went in the first week, then A went. Then we sent him with our maid. Nothing worked and eventually his distress just broke our hearts. We put him back into the accompanied class, and then ensured his maid accompanied him for the rest of the term, not us. And we repeatedly had to talk him through the changes to come so that he could adjust. Luckily, from then on, despite a sudden change of playschool and later his transition into a proper school, he and some of his playschool classmates were in the same batch and sections so it went much more easily. But we've had to learn that he needs to be talked through and prepared for transitions.

So when the time rolled around last Wednesday for Puddi to move into a proper playschool, A and I were anxious. To eb sure Puddi was excited about her new school but we weren't sure how she'd react when she saw her dad walking out of the classroom. Well, as always, Miss Looney surprised us. She walked confidently into class and held her teacher's hand. Mildly clingy, she soon settled down. On day two, A left her at the gate and came back and Miss P managed her schoolday all by herself. Today she's gone excitedly bouncing off, Bob-the-Builder bag slung on her back and a bulging lunchbox within, all excited at going to School! Wow, my baby made it! She's a big girl now!

My marshmallow

Puddi has a really interesting personality, and now the she is becoming increasingly communicative, her personality is really shining through. So far, thankfully there are no signs of terrible twos and given she's nearly three, I think we can stop waiting for the tantrums. Most of the time she has a sunshiny temperament and is happy to amuse herself by playing pretend games or clambering up and down furniture, running like a mad creature from one corner of the house to another. She has a really feminine side to her – she loves preening and any time she finds a scarf or dupatta of mine, she'll ask to wear a sari or she'll drape the fabric around her face, with the most amazing bride-like expression of confidence mixed with coyness on her face. She loves jangling her bangles and transferring them from one hand to the other. Her big complaint while changing clothes is that no one should even accidentally take any of the bangles off. She has decided to start selecting what to wear herself, something that even Chubbocks still has to start doing, and particularly for a party is very conscious of wanting to be 'dressed up'.

But she's also a feisty little thing. Whenever Chubbocks teases her or roughhouses, she'll give it right back to him. When she had just learnt to start speaking, she used to tell Chubbocks, "Stop shouting!" She's keen on doing the same things as he, physically, and is fearless whether she's climbing the monkey gym, swinging higher or trying to scarper up our cupboards. She loves physical activity and charges around all day. A real little Krishna, when she was younger, she used to steal butter and dahi out of the fridge. She'd open the fridge door, quietly dip her hand into either item and start eating, feeling shielded from discovery by the door. Nowadays she steals candy, or grapes and strawberries, and she loves 'chandra' ( santra/ orange). She has a real sense of fun and humour and keeps trying to make jokes and reacts to fun situations with a broad grin if not an outright laugh. Quite the loon, we rarely get photographs of her with a normal expression, she's so busy pulling faces.

But she also has this meltingly soft side to her. Every day when I come home from work, she buries her head in my knees and says, "I love you mama". Before going up to bed, or even several times a day, she'll come up to Bojjandi and rub her soft cheek against his downy head and tell us, "I looove him". She freely hands out hugs and kisses to A and Chubbocks all day long, and never has to be told to share stuff. Last night, Chubbocks got scolded for something by A. He was upset for ages, while their nightly bedtime story reading was going on. A carried on reading but Puddi was mighty distracted and spent her time looking over at Chubbocks. By the time two of the three stories were over, she couldn't stand it anymore. "Abba, I want to love Chubbocks", she said and sidled out of bed to give her brother a long hug and kiss and make things right for him.

Vintage wine…

We have invented some nice rituals for birthdays around here. On the birthday morning, the birthday person is woken up by the rest of the family singing a cacophonous song, "Hurray, hurray it's a happy birthday…sing a happy song, sing along, it's X's birthday!" to the tune of Holi-holiday by Boney M. We make a weird-looking crown, using some brightly coloured paper and my hairband and the birthday person has to wear it upon getting up until they get ready for the day. Chubbocks' birthday gave us some good opportunities for leg-pulling too. We told him we could only afford 2 books and a water pistol this year. Being a sweetie, he was all agog at the mention of books. Then, come birthday morning, after the singing, he was presented with a gift-wrapped bicycle helmet, in vivid bright yellow and blue. We told him it was to ensure he could ride around on his bicycle safely. "Can I have a cycle for my birthday? A Firefox?" he pleaded, brown eyes all melty. "No, C, we can't afford it this year but you can have this nice helmet."

Quite excited about showing it off on his old cycle, our man came into the living room and almost missed seeing his brand new Firefox cycle standing right in the center. Once he saw it, his face bloomed like a flower, all excited and bashful at the same time. He had his first accident right here, bashing into the Aram candlestand. We had a traditional oil ceremony at my parents' house, where he received his bonus gift of the year – a large Casio keyboard!

On my birthday I was expecting to keep things simple…and they were. We began as usual with the song and crown. A surprised me with a lovely necklace – very chic and modern. Quite a surprise since I wasn't expecting gifts this year. Then I toodled off to work, getting many calls from family and friends enroute. Work was a bit crazy with many stirring happenings and my boss being in town. We wound up having lunch at the food court – some yummy Thai curry and rice. Back at home, the kids agreed to go to bed early and conveniently slept off on time, giving A and me the chance to go out on a date. We went to a bar-restaurant right around the corner from the house. The food sucked but the drink was nice and the music peppy, and being around so many people much younger than moi made me feel all pepped up.

At the end of the evening, I realized that though I was older in life experience, I didn't feel a whole heck of a lot older in real years, in maturity ( sometimes), in almost any way that counts. I didn't feel the urge to wear dull colours, stop or start colouring my hair or making any lifestyle changes apart from exercising. Hey, at last I was happy to be me!

Investment Tips for my children

Hey there, kiddos,

I haven't the best track record when it comes to making investments. When I first started working, for several years I didn't bother making any kind of investments because, having been born and brought up in a government-salary, single-income family where money was always tight, I thought this was my time to have fun with the money. I shopped, I traveled, I ate out - yes, it was a blast. But I do wish now, in hindsight, that I had been just a trifle more prudent and salted away a small fraction of that money, so that we would have a nest egg today. See - that's what happens when you get married late. You don't think about things like this and while you're busy making whoopee, time's a-fleeting. So, my children, here are some of the things I wish I had or hadn't done, and I wanted to pass on the benefit of this wisdom to you so you don't have these kinds of regrets or if-only thoughts when you're my age. And so that you can never tell me "You didn't tell me so", years later!

1. Invest early, invest often. I'm not saying you have to save all the money you earn or receive as an allowance, but put away a fixed percentage of it from as early as you can - it'll pay off big time in about ten years, and allow you the flexibility of calling the shots, whether you want to backpack around the world for a year, just take time off to stay home with your kids or splurge on solitaires.

2. Invest in property early. It always pays off. one of the reasons your dad and I were able to fool around in Europe for a year was because your grandfather forced me to buy a flat when I was 22. The proceeds from that sale bought us a pretty nice lifestyle in Europe and later.

3. When you first start investing in property - remember, it's an investment. Don't think about it in terms of "I wouldn't be caught dead living here". That's a sure way of losing out on opportunities to cash in as your dad and I can tell you. Don't worry about the apartment being tiny and too far from your friends - your tenants will find it large and roomy and will make new friends there!

4. Buy only term insurance. Anyone who sells you insurance as an investment is busy laughing all the way to the bank.

5. Invest in the stock market. Invest regularly and don't buy stocks or companies that everyone is talking about. And if there's a time when everyone including your driver seems to be talking about the market and the gains hit the front page of the regular newspaper - sell everything and hoard your money.

6. Re. the stock market: buy only stocks or companies you understand. Set a gain target of either time or percentage, and the minute your stock hits that percentage gain, sell off enough to recoup your initial investment. That way you;re only winning or losing notional money and it doesn't hurt so much.

7. Be prudent, be wise but be balanced. At the end of the day, it is only money and life is much bigger than that!

Bojji’s growing up

It constantly amazes me to think back to this time last year and remember that Bojjandi and his antics were barely a mote in our eyes. He's now 6 months old and growing fast in personality and activity. He finally learnt to roll over about 10 days ago and now we can't put him down on his tummy for tummytime any more. The instant his tum-tum touches the ground, he rolls right over onto his back and chuckles up at us with a goofy grin. He also seems to have a real sense of humour because he just waits to catch our eyes before unleashing incredibly good-humoured looking smiles. And it takes very little to make him giggle – tickling, pretending we can't see him while calling his name, threatening to come grab him, nuzzling his fat little neck…

He's also at that incredibly cute stage when babies discover their limbs. So he carefully extends his chubby little hands into the air and opens and closes his fists, making little stars out of his hands and watches them with intense concentration. It's like he's telling himself, "Hey, see what I can do". And when we put him into his bouncer, he keeps reaching out to rattle all the toys purposefully and you can almost hear a Calvin-like, "I'm the Master of the Universe" cackle. We have a lovely kannada poem for this phase: Taarammaiyya, which we sing to him when he's busy making his little stars.

And now that he's 6 months old, we've introduced two major lifestyle changes. First of all, he's now having about 2 ounces of formula before being put to bed for the night, in the thus-far forlorn hope that he'll sleep longer that way. At present he goes off to sleep around 8:30 pm and wakes up around 4:00 am for a feed and then again at 6:00 am, which it turns out doesn't make me a happy camper – my dark circles have dark circles from lack of sleep! And the second change – we did his annaprashna ceremony last Friday, which was Ugadi, so now he has minute quantities of rice every day.

I love the ceremonial transition from phase to phase. Earlier, particularly in my teens, I used to be impatient of rituals, but now I enjoy the feeling of continuity and tradition that I get from following them. I never want to be a slave to rituals and tradition but following them out of choice is a different matter. I also feel it adds a feeling of special-ness to many things which are otherwise just a matter of routine. Even the naming ceremony is one of my favourite rituals, and we have my dad on tape explaining each aspect of the ritual so it's not some meaningless mumbo-jumbo spouted by a priest, but something deep and meaningful which is a way of passing on our culture to the new generation.

Our annaprashna has a set ritual: we make at least 5 different kinds of traditional sweets. Typically I don't like to buy sweets from the market for this ceremony because I like the food to be made of pure ingredients (i.e. no dalda / food colouring). So this time mom had to do most of the work since I was at work. She made sajjige ( sooji halwa), payasa of saamey ka chaawal, red carrot halwa and hayagriva, which is a rich halwa-type sweet made with gasegase, moong dal, jaggery and lots of ghee. I contributed a black carrot halwa to the feast.

Bojji was still just barely recovered from his chest infection so we gave him a quick sponge bath and dressed him in a new outfit. After the Ugadi pooje, we laid out the feast in a silver thali, in 5 silver bowls. Silver is supposed to be the metal used for children's eating utensils because it immediately kills any bacteria in the food and renders it safe. A took Bojjandi on his lap, and then fed him tiny little licks of each item by dipping a silver ring into each cup. Bojjandi seemed to enjoy the payasa the most. After A, I, then Chubbocks, Puddi and my parents and grandma all took turns helping Bojjandi taste the goodies. Then we mixed a small quantity of plain arhar dal, rice and ghee and fed Bojjandi a tiny little ball of it. The little hero hated the bland taste of this, since we don't add salt for a baby, and spat it out or tried to. This of course was followed by all of us feasting on the goodies!

The Little Professor

Yesterday we had a PTA meeting at Chubbocks' school. He's going into Class I. I can't believe he's so grown up already that he's been at 'big' school for 2 whole years. As usual, his teachers were all smiles and giggles during our interaction and they said Chubbocks is known as 'the little encyclopaedia' since he always knows something about each topic they discuss and always wants to share what he knows.

A and I are feeling as proud as peacocks. i guess we did something right, besides the lack of birth control :)!

Why I Hate Lawyers

We've never had a good experience with lawyers. Way back there was the one whom we had contacted when we wanted to get married – we wanted to get her to register the marriage. She quoted a cost of some Rs. 25000, of which she claimed the bulk would be bribes paid to sundry people. We decided we weren't that rich and went for the direct route and accomplished it in the grand sum of Rs. 650 or so. Then last year there was a shocking incident in which some high-falutin partner in a legal firm's car hit our car from behind and he tried to bluster and bamboozle us into paying for his damages, threatening that he was going to keep us tied up in a court case for years so we could neither repair nor sell our car if we didn't pay up. And now, last Thursday's incident.

Our driver was driving Chubbocks home from the gate of the colony after school. As a treat, Chubbocks was sitting in the front passenger seat, since this was a drive within the colony compound and the speed limit within our colony is 15 kmph. Suddenly a Maruti 800 came speeding out of nowhere, bang down the middle of the road. Our driver was alert enough to pull our car as far to the side of the road as possible, but even then the Maruti 800 banged our Baleno hard enough to make dents in the bumper and the side. If it hadn't been for our driver's presence of mind, both he and Chubbocks could have been badly hurt, if not worse. The 800 then went on to bang itself into a light pole and was quite badly smashed.

It turned out the 800 belonged to a resident of our colony, a Mr. Thakur who is a Supreme Court lawyer. The car was being driven by his 15 year old servant who had no training in driving. As soon as I heard of the incident I went across to this lawyer's house, and A visited him the next morning. Both times, his whole concern was to say that he has no liability since the liability is vicarious as he was not driving the car himself, and that the servant was underage so he could not be charged. There was no 'sorry about the incident', no 'I understand your concern, your child could have been killed', no acknowledgement of the fact that we had a right to be angry.

There's no human side to this man at all. Just constant bluster coupled with irrelevant information like the fact that his son is with KPMG and his daughter with Penguin. I mean, I wouldn't care if his daughter was a penguin, how is that germane to the issue that you first of all have an underage servant working in your home in defiance of labour laws, secondly that this servant got away with your car keys and caused what potentially could have been a fatal accident. Just the endless legalese about how he doesn't need to offer to pay a penny for repairs to our car because he has no liability. With lawyers like that I can totally understand how our legal system is so messed up.

And now, A and I are scared to have Chubbocks ride his new cycle around the colony or walk by himself to the park, because we don't know how many other neighbours have underage servant joyriding recklessly.

Teething troubles

Chubbocks has always had a lovely set of milk teeth. He was a cute baby pretty much from the start (or so other people say; I personally started finding him cute around 4-5 months of age), but when his teeth came in, he got elevated to another level of cuteness altogether. Even now when I see his baby pictures I am amazed by how good-looking he was. Yes, that's a fond mother speaking but I'm entitled to my opinion.

Unfortunately what we didn't know was that excellent milk teeth usually result in crooked permanent teeth. When his first tooth started wobbling, I was alarmed to see another one behind it, at almost right angles to the original tooth. The first one fell out, accompanied by a gift from the tooth fairy, and we rushed Chubbocks to the 'dentust' to get the crooked one checked out. The dentist said that in cases like this, the adjoining teeth need to be extracted as soon as they become loose, to try and ensure that other teeth don't come in crooked and so the crooked teeth can get the space they need to try and straighten out. So last week, Chubbocks was tortured by the dentist and his second tooth was extracted. What is alarming me is that the second permanent tooth is also coming in at a 45 degree angle to the original one. I'm guessing we'll eventually have to put the l'il guy in braces so his smile can beam out as beautiful as it is now. Luckily for me, he smiles with his eyes too, and that ain't gonna change!

Children and Illness

Dunno anything more heartrending than seeing your children ill. Suddenly that bubbly, full-of-beans child who used to drive you nuts by climbing up the furniture and running around the house like a loon has as much animation as a snuffed-out candle. Watching that small little body cough, and exert the whole body to get that cough out is enough to make a grown man or woman cry. And all of a sudden you feel so helpless. When your child gets hurt, falls down maybe or bangs himself or feels jealous of a sibling, there's always some small piece of magic you can pull off to get the smiles back on his or her face. But when he or she is ill, you can't do much besides run to the nearest doc and hope for a miracle cure.

I've been on the other side of this very often in my childhood. I had asthma. I remember, as soon as I started getting the first inkling that an attack was on the way, I'd feel a shiver of fear and then do my best to live in denial and hope it'd get the hint and go away. Except it never did. Then the dreaded spectre would come back to haunt us – I and my parents. What bliss it was to the tired body to just lie down and rest the back. But then the lungs would close up and I'd have to sleep sitting up, if at all. I'd wheeze through the nights, back and chest hurting with just the effort to take in a breath and feel starved for a lungful of oxygen. I never wanted to wake up my parents and see that worried look on their faces so I'd try and wheeze quietly, even while one corner of my mind would wish they were up and with me, helping me in the struggle. They would always get up, with that sixth sense that parents of asthmatics have. Dad would get hot water bottles or move the pedestal fan so it would blow directly into my face, giving me the illusion of breathing fresh oxygen. Mom would rub my back and chest with Vicks and they'd get two and three pillows so I could sit leaning on them, which was easier on the lungs. I remember once in Singapore I was so badly off we needed to go to the emergency room. But the hospital was too close to our house and no cab would agree to take us there even though dad offered to pay whatever the guy wanted. Dad's face was drawn and grey as he raced up and down the road trying to flag down cabs or even passing motorists at some 5 in the morning.

Thankfully, at least so far none of my kids seem to have inherited the horrible disease. But it's been a tough week watching Puddi and Bojjandi go through a chest infection, with daily nebulization sessions and half a dozen medications. Made me realize how much harder it must be for those parents whose kids do have asthma and go through this on a regular basis. My heartfelt sympathies!

 

My work here is done

To think, just a short while ago I wondered where we had gone wrong and whether Chubbocks would ever be motivated to read on his own. Right from the beginning, Chubbocks has been exposed to lots of books – as I may have mentioned before we have a home library of over 5000 books, and with A's and my noses always in a book, I figured he'd find out pretty early that books were 'in' in our household. But though he had learnt to read quite some time back, the only things he wanted to make an effort to read were books much below his reading level from his class library. Though he had received some Enid Blytons as gifts, he never seemed to want to read them on his own.

It was pretty disheartening for a while. I felt I had failed as a parent ( yup, my idea of parenting is teaching them to read). And then one day he came home with a Scholastic book list from school. Scholastic often offers books at discounted rates to his school and so far A and I had been selecting the books along with him. This time A and I were busy so before we knew it, Chubbocks had ticked off three books and sent away for them, demanding a cool Rs. 300 or so. And one day they arrived. Chubbocks got down from the school bus clutching his precious new books to his chest, beaming from ear to ear. As soon as he tumbled down from the bus he opened the one he was most excited about and started reading 'Silly Poems' (poyums). He was so distracted he went about his washing up and post school meal in a kind of daze and by six that evening, he'd finished the book – about a 100 pages long.

Now he's reading it a second time, selecting his favourites to read over and again and I can see his reading gene kicking in. Whether he's at the breakfast table or at a friend's place, he's constantly reading – books, magazines, titles from newspapers, labels on food packaging…He's always happy to entertain the Puddi by reading a short story out to her. He's even gotten excited about the Secret Seven which is his bedtime reading along with dad. And when I jokingly told him his birthday gift this year from us would be two books, his face lit up!

Parent's Nightmares

I was horrified when I read this at my friend Kiran's blog. Horrified at the callousness, the arrogance which led the smalltime actor to assume that he was entitled to behave like this and get away with it. And horrified because this is my daily nightmare - that my two elder kids will get knocked down by a speeding motorcycle or car on their way to the park. We live in a gated community and the internal speed limit is 15 km, but very rarely do I see people following that, particularly the younger generation. I realise I sound like an old-time aunty, but that's ok - maybe I am in many ways. Because I do expect many things that now seem to belong to a bygone era - courtesy, discipline, apologizing when one is at fault, being concerned for other people...
A few years ago I was in hospital after Chubbocks' birth when I had a scary call from my mom. She and dad were driving back after visiting me, and dad was in the righthand lane, driving at the speed limit of 60 kmph. Some guy behind them kept honking but there were cars all around so dad couldn't move over. Finally, when he spotted a break in the traffic he moved to the left to allow the other car to pass. That sodding bully, instead of passing, overtook my parents and parked his car across the road, blocking their car. When dad got out to ask him what the problem was, he knocked dad down and then drove off saying, "I'm sparing him only because he's old". Thanks a bunch, that was so considerate...
There is a girl who rents a room in the house next to my parents. She's a terrible driver, and once while reversing, backed right into dad's parked car and dented it, then looked out and glared at his driver!
I also posted a while back about this visit to the supermarket with Chubbocks:
"...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..."
I'm really not sure what is the cause of all this anger, this one-upmanship, this feeling that people from all generations seem to have that they have the right to push other people around. And that if they make a mistake the person who witnessed that mistake had better apologize for being there.