Tag Archives: kidspeak


The 13-year old kid and her 12-year old cousin are at the back seat of the car on the way to the beach.  They are discussing the stupidity of horror movies.

Kid:  You know, everything is clear.  Don’t open the door.  Don’t pick up the phone.  What do they do? They open the door. They pick up the phone.  Seriously…what’s wrong with them?

Cousin:  Yeah.  And then, things would go bump at night, windows would slam, yet, the lady of the house would say “it’s the wind”.  What’s with that?

Kid:  And get this.  There is a psycho with a machete outside the back door.  What would the girl do?  Not run to her well-lit neighbour’s house through the front door. Instead she will run into a dark cul-de-sac with the psycho in pursuit.

Cousin: And yeah…what’s with ghosts scaring inmates?  If I were a ghost, and you were the inmate of the house, I would simply tell you – you stay in that room, I will stay in this, we won’t bother each other.  Just give me the Wi-Fi password.

Cousin and kid are truly related by blood, I can see.


Smarty pants

The kid struck her toe against the door and hopped around in pain.

Mom:  Why on earth would you do that?

Kid:  Oh, it is a ritual I practice daily so that I can live a long and happy life amma.

Sarcastic kid or what?

Third degree

The kid recounts her dream:

“Someone called Dia stole a train, but the cops thought it was me (Via) who stole the train and chased me all over.  I ran and ran to escape and P (her friend) came in a bike and gave me a mobile phone.  I first thought I would call you, amma, but then thought you’d yell at me, and it is better to go to the police.  So I started searching for the police and woke up”.

Hmm.  I think the parent-inflicted trauma is complete, what say you?

Neurotic urology

I had boiled a litre of water with cumin seeds, in order to soothe my innards that are currently going through serious midlife crisis and are making it known in no uncertain terms that certain organs of the body, such as the ovaries and uterus, exist. I poured the yellow liquid into a one litre transparent water bottle to sip now and then.

The kid comes into the room and stands transfixed.


“Have you forgotten nouns and verbs?”

“Why do you have that that that…thing on the dining table”?

“Which thing?”

She points to my bottle and says “pee”.

I uncork the bottle and take a gulp of it. The kid turns green.


“Oh, you know?  Moraji Desai drank urine for his health?”


“The first urine of the day is supposed to have medicinal properties, you know?”


“There is something called auto urine therapy, don’t you know?”

“Appa…amma is being disgusting….why did you marry her?”

Dad:  Oh, yesterday, she wanted me to pee on her lemon plants to make them bloom.

Me:  Of course.  The nitrogen in urine is in bioavailable form.  Lemon needs bioavailable nitrogen to grow. I have to squat if I need to pee on the lemon plant.  Appa does not need to squat and can just squirt.

By now the kid is getting hysteric.  So, I put her out of her misery by telling her that I wasn’t drinking pee, but cumin water.  Did she want some?

I may have narrowly escaped death by looks.