Whooped Cream
My 9-year old cousin says some amazing things. We all realized this almost two years ago, when the whole clan went to Bangladesh for our oldest cousin's wedding. All of the sudden, he knows how to play checkers and can outwit a person thrice his age. Plus, he's funny. Here are a couple of gems from that Bangladesh trip and one from today.
Scene: Second or third day in Bangladesh, and Kuntal (cousin in question) and my brother, Rahul, are commiserating because none of the parents want us to eat chicken due to the reports of bird flu.
Kuntal: I wish I could marry a chicken, so I could eat it.
Rahul, laughing: What? You want to eat your wife?
Kuntal: Yea... no wait! I want to marry the chicken first, wait for it to have a lot of babies, THEN eat it.
Scene: Gas station, en route from village to Dhaka. Rani, Rahul, Aureen, and Kuntal all have to go to the bathroom. Rani, being a girl, has to find a proper enclosed area to do her business, but is having difficulty. Finally she finds the little outhouse, and the boys find some bushes.
Rahul (or Aureen, I don't know): Man, we are so lucky we're guys. Guys can pee on anything.
Aureen (or Rahul): Yea, we can pee on the street, in a bush, on a building...
Kuntal: On a dog...
Scene: Today, as Kuntal's brother heads out to Starbucks.
Kuntal: Mmm, I love their whooped cream.
Me: It's WHIPPED cream.
Kuntal: It doesn't matter, does it? You have to whoop the cow to get it.
The older I get, the more I see kids develop, the more it amazes me, and the sadder I get. Kuntal and his family lived with my family for a good part of his early childhood. For at least the first three years of his life, he was with me all the time. I would come home, and he would run to the door and give me a hug. Granted, he's still a loving kid, but he doesn't remember all the time he spent with me when he was a baby. And I get sad because this must be how parents feel, only they're feeling it with way more intensity.
The more I think about it, the more I never want to be a parent, but maybe that sadness is worth it.
Scene: Second or third day in Bangladesh, and Kuntal (cousin in question) and my brother, Rahul, are commiserating because none of the parents want us to eat chicken due to the reports of bird flu.
Kuntal: I wish I could marry a chicken, so I could eat it.
Rahul, laughing: What? You want to eat your wife?
Kuntal: Yea... no wait! I want to marry the chicken first, wait for it to have a lot of babies, THEN eat it.
Scene: Gas station, en route from village to Dhaka. Rani, Rahul, Aureen, and Kuntal all have to go to the bathroom. Rani, being a girl, has to find a proper enclosed area to do her business, but is having difficulty. Finally she finds the little outhouse, and the boys find some bushes.
Rahul (or Aureen, I don't know): Man, we are so lucky we're guys. Guys can pee on anything.
Aureen (or Rahul): Yea, we can pee on the street, in a bush, on a building...
Kuntal: On a dog...
Scene: Today, as Kuntal's brother heads out to Starbucks.
Kuntal: Mmm, I love their whooped cream.
Me: It's WHIPPED cream.
Kuntal: It doesn't matter, does it? You have to whoop the cow to get it.
The older I get, the more I see kids develop, the more it amazes me, and the sadder I get. Kuntal and his family lived with my family for a good part of his early childhood. For at least the first three years of his life, he was with me all the time. I would come home, and he would run to the door and give me a hug. Granted, he's still a loving kid, but he doesn't remember all the time he spent with me when he was a baby. And I get sad because this must be how parents feel, only they're feeling it with way more intensity.
The more I think about it, the more I never want to be a parent, but maybe that sadness is worth it.
This entry was posted by Soma, on
17.2.09.
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