Witty Bean

My daughter, Button is obsessed with Helium balloons. Every trip to a store or supermarket, and she adds to her balloon harem by 1. Disney balloons, random Chinese character balloons, birthday balloons, emoji balloons. As long as they float and bob, they are A-ok in her book. A couple of months ago, she found a particularly garish looking smiley-emoji balloon. Someone had decided that the basic two eyes+ toothy grin combo wasn't enough for this balloon. NOO, it had to have those extra large eyes and a creepy smile that would impress a serial killer. And for some reason, the artist who designed the balloon had even added a little red nylon tongue extension which happily flapped up and down when the balloon floated. All in all, a pretty macabre toy.But guileless kids, full of innocence loved the damn thing and Button was no exception. So we got it home and my kids spent countless hours playing with it. Over the next week, the balloon slowly lost some of its helium. When at first, i

This past week, our house underwent some fumigation and so we spent 8ish days at our in-laws’  cottage in Monterey, California. For those unfamiliar with that part of the world, Monterey and its surrounding towns are right next to the Pacific Ocean. Miles of beautiful, unspoiled beaches, not too touristy and of course the world-famous Monterey Bay Aquarium. The weather is never too hot; the beaches are set against a backdrop of lush hills and the sand is always perfect. My idea of heaven on earth. The kids had lots of fun, but because of a sudden increase in downtime (no school) they started having bouts of “I’m so bored/I love the Ocean/I hate the Ocean/I’m angry for no reason”. Typical younger child behavior and something I’d expected would happen. They both thrive on structure, so we tried to keep things as streamlined and predictable as possible.   Of course, my Zen, earth-mother mood didn’t last too long. Between the cooking and cleaning and general child rearing, I star

Photo by  Yogi Purnama  on  Unsplash I have a membership at a car wash.It's a small business that does a pretty good job of clearing my car of grime and every single piece of random detritus my kids have decided to dump into the car. Old Lego pieces (son), stickers (daughter), ketchup packets (again daughter), fast food paper towels (me).The car goes in, looking tired and a tad shamefaced. From the point of view of the human vacuum cleaner, constantly whooshing behind my kids, I am so elated  to hand over the cleaning to someone else for a change.I practically throw the keys in the carwash staff’s faces, before scurrying away to the cool, dark lobby, where I nurse an iced latte. An hour later, I pick it up - bright, shiny and smelling of God’s nectar (cinnamon spice flavor, for those interested).I tip generously as the cleaning attendant and I exchange rueful glances and marvel at the Pile of Crap they fished out of my car. And finally, I drive away, with the rooftop visor

Roy mopped the floor, back and forth. Back and forth. The dullness of the process soothed his frayed nerves. He hated working at night when the whole building was silent and he could hear his own labored breathing. But he'd promised to cover tonight's shift, and he was a man of his word. Not like there was anyone waiting for him back home. Sighing, he lifted his mop and rinsed it in the murky pail. Squeezed and plopped it on the ground. Back and forth. Back and forth. The rhythmic motion lulled him into a state of semi-hypnosis. His mind drifted away, jumping from thought to thought. Soon he was reminiscing about his own school days. His jaw opened slightly, his wrinkled face serene with a dreamy smile. Back and forth. Back and forth. The mop kept moving. He passed an open lab door. At first, he didn't hear the sound, still engrossed in his own thoughts. Then some primitive part of his brain slowly woke up and started ringing alarm bells. Something that sounded l

We’ve been on this road for 6 years now. It is no longer that dark, scary trail, with unpleasant surprises at every turn. No, the road is much easier now, with beautiful vistas and stunning foliage. Most days, we don’t even notice the uphill climb or how we still keep stumbling on those random, gnarly roots. We just dust off our hands and keep walking. Maybe because we’ve got you as our Trail Guid e. You tell us when we can take a break, and when we need to get up and move already. Most times you use words (long, beautiful, articulate sentences). Sometimes when you’re particularly upset, you emote with sounds and tears. We still understand you perfectly and accept you as you are. Because you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be. Some days, you want to keep walking, keep exploring, running ahead and marveling at every funny shaped rock you see. We try hard to keep up, our faces red with sweet exertion. These are wonderful days, laced with laughter and silliness. There’s no stopping you