The 'wind' beneath their wings

This is turning into a total mommy blog, isn't it? But then bringing up the kids is my primary occupation for now, so I suppose it's justified. Anyway, I'm my own boss. Any occasional reader of this blog will just have to suffer my whim if he or she chooses not to navigate away from this page instantly.

So my boys are completely obsessed with all things wind-related. Burps and farts, either genuine or feigned, are constantly echoing through our home. (No, our home doesn't smell foul. Thankfully the builder has designed an extremely well ventilated apartment). And then come the giggles, which are terribly infectious. So any attempt from either my hubby or me to sternly tell the boys that this isn't acceptable behaviour comes to nought because a hint of a smile invariably escapes.

Recently our older son had to undergo a minor medical procedure, after which the doctors asked him whether he had "passed" gas, urine and stools. He couldn't get over it! Now he very religiously informs me each time, "Mama, I just passed gas", and then dissolves into giggles.

They laugh hardest each time they make me recite a Sanskrit shloka (it isn't genuine, guys) about the supposed hierarchy of farts. I learnt this at my dad's knee and have dutifully passed the wisdom on to my children. Padakasya dhadaak raja, Tasya mantri tuntuni, Phushphushayya malaya gandha, Nishshabde praan hantika. For the sake of dignity, if there's any remaining, I will refrain from translating. (Incidentally, a version of this appeared in the new hit film 3 Idiots).

Another thing that's caught my kids' fancy is pretending to be hurt in the crotch. There's much show of cupping the groin, doubling over and writhing in imagined agony. After watching Kung Fu Panda again recently, they've taken to doing all that and then moaning "oooh, my tenders" just like Jack Black does as the voice of the animation film's lead character Po, the giant panda.

Something else my boys can't get enough of is saying chaddi, which is the Hindi word for underwear. Their twist on the old childhood ditty goes thus: Akkad bakkad bambe bo, assi nabbe pure sau, sau se nikla dhaga, chaddi leke bhaga! One day they came home from school and asked me, what's the full form of C.H.I.N.A.? Chaddi hanging is not allowed!

And their attempts to develop original jokes continue. Just this afternoon Kabir, my older one, asked me, which author is really deep? Malcolm Gladwell! (I was reading Gladwell's 'What the Dog Saw', so it was on my bedside table.) Raghav too has now met with some success in his attempts at being original. Where do ostriches live? Os-tralia! Which cars do octopuses drive? Oct-avia (Skoda)! Not bad for a six-year-old, eh?