It has been a while since I bragged and humiliated my little one. Since it is in the fineprint of the mothering manual, which must not be forgotten, I am doing this. I hope you understand that I am merely doing what is expected of me.
I started reading to my kid when she was 12 days old. I believe I read PGWodehouse to her as she peed and pooped when she wasn’t suckling or sleeping. Then, when her eyes began to focus, I read Tintin and Amar Chitra Kathas to her, so she could see the pictures and colors. Then we graduated and by the time she was two, I was reading Enid Blyton to her, and one of the first things she told me when she had started talking was, let’s have an English breakfast like the Famous Fives. By four, she could read, and didn’t need my droning voice anymore and anytime anyone suggested outing, she said “bookstore”.
But that’s not the brag (well, it is, but you know…). She started writing creative stuff when she was five. Seeing her love for writing, I started a blog for her when she was six, and she wrote extensively in it. She still has the blog, and recently, she privatised all her old posts (she wanted to delete them because “amma, they are so immature and kiddish” but I told her to merely privatize it because I want to show these posts to my grandchildren) and revamped her blog into a typical teenage repository of hormone-induced, often funny banter.
Am sharing the blog here (see above link)….just so you can check it out.
End of brag.