On Easter of 2015, five of my besties from middle school and I pulled off the impossible trip of a lifetime to Goa. It was so phenomenal that Zoya Akhtar could direct a blockbuster movie on us. I am totally available to play me, just saying.
What is even more saccharine sweet is that four of us are moms now to the next gen of high maintenance women folk, aged between one and four years. And some of them met for the first time on this trip.
Kuhu, who had turned one days before the trip, was a bundle of sheer joy. She was almost always smiling, had stranger affinity – if there is such a thing and kept mumbling sweet nothings to anybody who would so much as glance at her.
Baby T, unfortunately, was experiencing the onset of the crazy, Terrible Twos. No matter how many times Toohoo tried to break the proverbial ice, Madam T deflected the warmth and froze a tiny bit more. In T’s defense, it was fiercely hot and T didn’t handle empty stomach as well as our Ninja Baby Wonder did. But, Kuhu was relentless in her effort to keep communicating in Babyland gibberish with the Grinch.
Prima facie, Kuhu’s efforts did not have a positive result. T continued to resemble Master Shifu for most part of our trip and barked at anyone who tried to be remotely cute around her.
But when we wrapped up and returned to base, we were amazed at how quickly T gt over her grumpiness. She became amicable, picked up a couple of friends in the play area and started talking almost immediately post that trip.
Many years from now, I would be telling T’s children how the Easter Bunny taught their mommy a few lessons on love and warmth!