Months of Milestones

What a year it’s been (well, just short of 8 months, really, for me)! So packed full of milestones that I don’t know where to start when it comes to rounding it up for my readers...

First, of course, there was my birth in May which was quite eventful according to Mommy and Daddy, though I don’t remember that much about it. I gather it took a long time and quite a bit of pain to bring me into the world (even I remember those nasty forceps)! Mommy says what she got in the end (me!) was worth all the pain and she would do it again (but just the once more).

Then, there was getting to know all my family and friends, and their generosity, as visitors bearing gift after wonderful gift arrived at our home following my birth. As I’d mentioned in an earlier post, I quickly organised my new toys into a smoothly functioning unit of cohorts with me, firmly, in charge! That was just the beginning of all the things I learnt to do in the space of a few months. And now I can walk a few steps unaided (as long as I can grab-a-hold of something sturdy)!

Most of all, I can now show Mommy and Daddy how much I love them in return for all the love and care they shower upon me. My face lights up when I see them, I smile when they smile and my little arms reach out and hold them tight when I want to demonstrate how much they mean to me.

I also got to know and love my Grandma and Grandad, and all my English family, with whom I went on my first holiday to France (and with whom I spent my first magical Christmas, but I’ll get to that later).

I also spent a fantastic month with my Dida who flew to the UK to meet me. We grew to know and love each other, as I did the rest of my family in India. With the latter, mostly through phone calls and webchats because I haven’t met them yet but will very soon! I did get to meet my uncle and aunt from Switzerland who visited me when I was very young and though, regrettably, I can’t remember them that well, the Jumperoo they gave me opened up a whole new world of fabulous adventures for me.

While my Dida was here, we celebrated my first solid feed or ‘Annaprashan’. I was fed from specially inscribed lovely silver crockery sent by my Indian family, with all my English friends and family in attendance, which made it a very special day indeed. My Dida left soon after but I am still singing the songs she sang to me while she was here.

The year ended with a brilliant Christmas celebration at my Grandad and Grandma’s house where we ate and drank and made merry but we also missed Great Grandma’s presence as she fell ill and had to, sadly, be hospitalised (thinking of you as I write this, Great Grandma, and hoping you get better soon). I got so many terrific toys, colourful books and attractive clothes from all of my family and friends that I wouldn’t know where to start if I had to list them (best not to, in case Santa thinks he can skip next year)!

But before that, on Christmas Eve, I clocked up another exciting first when I went on my first train ride from Chesterfield to Sheffield as Mommy and Daddy took me to meet their friends and workmates. I met Liz and Karen from Daddy’s team and spent a fun few hours with Unca Brian and Aunty Carola in Sheffield, nipping across to Mommy and Daddy’s old workplace (where they'd met!) to meet Unca George and Aunty Hana too. Off we went to Donny after that, touching base with my friends Eddie and Evan before we got down to the serious business of a family Christmas!

Phew. What a momentous few months it has been. And I’ve got so much to look forward to in the New Year starting with the long awaited trip to India to meet some very special family members like Dadu and Mashi and Budida.

2009, are you ready for me? Coz here I come!!!

Note: Do watch my Christmas slideshow for all my festive photos.

A Merry Missive

To
Mr Santa Claus
North Pole
SAN TA1


Dear Great Unca Nick,

This is the second letter I’m writing to you, this time to let you know that I have found the perfect gift for Mommy and Daddy and won’t need your help after all. Do you remember I said I didn’t know what to get them (they seem over the moon having got me this year and are always saying there’s nothing more they want)?

Well, I thought about it long and hard and decided that since they say I’m the best thing they’ve ever had, I should really get them something along the same lines; no, not another baby, they’ll have to ask the Stork for that. But I could get them a better version of me (I know you're thinking, like Mommy and Daddy, that that's not possible)!

Let me explain. Remember Jack Nicholson in ‘As Good As It Gets’ telling Helen Hunt that she makes him “want to be a better man”? Well, Mommy and Daddy’s infinite love and care makes me want to be a better baby.

Don’t get me wrong- I’m no angel and never will be! My world wouldn’t be the same without my daily diversions of pulling Mommy’s hair and pummelling my toys with my plastic hammer. Persistently throwing things from my high chair so my parents pick them up time and again is a teatime treat I couldn’t live without. And I really couldn’t get through a meal without grabbing my spoon and dashing it to the ground just as Mommy brought a big, wobbly spoonful to my mouth. You’ve got to admit giving these innocent little distractions up would be asking too much of any spirited baby. And that’s not the kind of cold turkey I have in mind for Christmas!

What I have been doing in my spare time (in between feeds and play sessions; I don’t nap, such a mindless waste of time- yawwwn) is perfecting my crawl for Mommy. I’ve been practising when her back’s been turned so she thinks I can’t crawl properly yet, but I can really. I’ve been pulling the wool over her eyes (a marvellous metaphor for a Christmas post, methinks!) with my deliberately ungainly caterpillar crawl but come Christmas morn, I shall unveil my new super-smooth slither! I figured it would be a good gift for her because I can then go wherever she goes without her having to pick me up as I am getting quite heavy (and she isn’t very big for a ‘big person’).

For Daddy, I’ve sussed sitting up unassisted so we can have a man-to-man grapple and play other macho games when he comes home from work every day! But there's this little business of falling over I still do which I need to straighten out before the big day. I’ve been trying to learn to stand without support as well but I don’t think I’ll have that wrapped up for Christmas. And although I can’t stand yet, I do have my feet firmly planted on the ground and know that that might have to be my Valentine to my two favourite people (always a forward-thinking baby, me)!

I suppose Valentine’s pressies are outside your remit Santa; you wouldn’t have Cupid’s address, would you?

Christmas Cuddles,
From Syon

Lincoln Green

We went to the Christmas Market in Lincoln last Saturday with Grandma and Grandad. I was left to look after them the evening before when Mommy and Daddy flounced off to a Christmas do with our neighbours. I had a great time with them although I think I rather worried them with my histrionics at bedtime (but what’s a thespian to do?)!

We had seats on the morning train to Lincoln. However, despite getting there in time (against all the odds), we weren’t allowed on because they had overbooked! The next train was a whole hour away so we decided to drive to Lincoln instead. I suppose we were a little bit green (a good colour to be, at Christmas!) to think that the path to Lincoln would be smooth on a day when 80,000 visit their festive market, but I would have loved a ride on the ol’ choo-choo. Maybe we’ll try an Indian train when we’re there next year (though Mommy says they get a tad crowded too)!

Once we got there, we had a brilliant time although we were very, very cold. At least, that’s’ what my parents and grandparents said as they knocked back brandy, liqueur and mulled wine! I kept warm by snuggling against Daddy (in my sling).

The market took up all of the historic quarter of Lincoln; stalls dotted the cathedral close and jostled for space in the castle square. And swirling around each was a tumultous sea of beady-eyed bargain hunters. Mommy, Daddy and my grandparents all agreed with me that we should return on a weekday next year, because although the Christmas market was wonderfully colourful and cheery and bags of fun, it was so packed we couldn’t get close enough to the stalls to do any shopping and all we came home with was a handful of nuts (yummy cinnamon coated ones though)! Oh, and a lovely Christmas wreath of orange peel, dried chillies and cinnamon sticks that now hangs in our hall.

On Sunday morning, Mommy, Daddy and my grandparents helped me do up our six-foot Christmas tree with pretty baubles from India, England and Germany, and a very special new one with my name on it which Grandma and Granddad had brought me for this, my very first Christmas!

With the house looking festive and the shopping done, I’m all set for my first Christmas. I would count the days if I could count but what I can do is keep my very sharp baby ears pricked for Santa...

Is that you I hear on the roof?!!

Busy B

I’ve been a very busy baby lately that’s why I haven’t posted anything new on my blog for a while. But yesterday when my fans staged a protest march and a hunger strike outside my home, I felt compelled to issue an apology for my silence. I did not want rumbling tummies on my conscience, nor Mommy upset about people peeping through our windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourite baby blogger.

I am truly sorry I haven’t written, but my fans will have to learn to occasionally get through the week without my pearls of wisdom to guide them, because my diary is simply heaving with engagements all the way up to the New Year.

This week I’ve been Christmas shopping. I shopped till I dropped (off to sleep) but I still have some gift hunting left to do. Such is the plight of a baby with a large social network. It does seem unfair that Mommy and Daddy can sit back (unlike me) and let Santa get all my gifts from the list I've sent him!

I also attended my first birthday party. Not my own, as I am just over 6 months old, but a really fun party thrown by my much older (a whole 6 months!) friend Sol in Sheffield. While all the girls swooned over me and Sol, Mommy tried all the desserts. Daddy wouldn’t let me sip his champagne but we shared a banana which kept me happy till tea time.

Then, on Monday, we took Mommy to hospital for her operation. She put on a green tent-like thing and disappeared behind some doors. I couldn’t wave to her although I wanted to, because I couldn’t move my arms much in my big warm overalls, which I was wearing for the first time as it was a particularly frosty morning. I didn’t get much time to feel sad about it though because Mommy popped out of the operation theatre just a quarter of an hour later to say that she didn't need one after all! The doctor, who’d seen her a month and a half ago, had had another look and was pleasantly surprised to see that the problem area had (finally) healed and no intervention was necessary, which was fantastic news.

And that was the week that was, folks. I promise to try and write again real soon although I have another busy week ahead, full of parties and more shopping and my first trip to the hair dresser (sadly, not for me, though I quite fancy a new look to go with my new teeth)!

A Fangtastic Development

After months of angst (and dribble), I have got to the root of my troubles- there is a growth and it’s in my mouth. In fact, there are two (and a half) of them and they are called teeth!

They look and feel a tad strange, like bits of chewy baby rice I’ve forgotten to swallow. I was in great discomfort when they were coming through but now I wouldn’t be without them (although I will have to part with them in a few years, I’m told, but only to make way for others). What are the advantages of teeth you cry, my baby brethren, when they cause us such pain and grief?

Well, for one, I have a dazzling new smile. Show me one Hollywood hunk without pearly whites and I will show you…a baby; a baby who will only ever do the one role and then disappear from our screens forever! And it’s not just about superficialities like appearance, everything I do seems to have more bite (hardy har har).

Chomping on my parents’ fingers is so much more satisfying than it used to be; the occasional anguished scream when I sink my new teeth in is also quite exciting! Plus, I can now show my two toy pooches, Popsi and Pru, who’s boss with a well placed nip or two. Two can play at the same game, you see!

But most importantly, my gastronomic horizons have broadened beyond belief. Just yesterday I was having milk, milk and more milk. Today I can have nibbles, finger foods and little snackeroos I can play with before I eat! It makes my head spin just thinking of all the wonderful new munchies I can get my two (and a half) teeth into!

What more can I say to persuade you to grow teeth, my infant friends, except that it is your passport to foodie heaven? Talking of Foodies, this one must now toddle off to have his tea...

I Can Be Obama

Yes, I can.

Mommy cried when Barack Obama gave his US presidential election victory speech at 4 am on Wednesday (or maybe she cried because I’d kept her up all night). She told me that Obama is a beacon of hope for many people around the world. Then she said I was the light of Mommy and Daddy’s life (Daddy verified this so it must be true) therefore, I am their Obama, only smaller and cuter (though he isn't half-bad, according to her). When I grow up, I could be as inspirational as he is (or more, she said; my mommy doesn’t expect much)!

Mommy and Daddy said (all this at the crack of dawn) that I have a lot in common with President-elect Obama. I am a ‘half-outsider’ like him with an ‘unusual’ (but beautiful- Daddy emphasised) name. They hope, like him, these things can be my strength rather than my Achilles Heel (some kind of wonky body part). Like him, they hope, I can succeed on my own terms, shrugging off labels and stereotypes, proudly owning both sides of my heritage, and never watering down who I am to suit other people.

Barack Obama didn’t run to the Deed Poll people when his countrymen couldn’t tell him apart from Osama Bin Laden. When they made fun of a picture of him in a turban, he didn’t disown his Kenyan background, nor did he distance himself from his white family when some people questioned whether he was truly ‘black’. That’s the man Mommy and Daddy believe I can be (not half-Kenyan and half-American, you understand, though I could legitimately sport a turban).

If I am that kind of guy, Mommy says, the world would be my oyster. Maybe a half-closed oyster that has to be prised open, like it is with a lot of people outside the ‘mainstream’. I might have to chip away at it long and hard before opportunities open up to me, but if I have talent and guts and determination (which I shall have in spades, my parents said), then I could make it mine.

I can be Obama. Yes, I can.

But I’d rather be Lewis Hamilton (it looks like more fun)!

Note: Pictured here with my running mate Gerry the Giraffe, who is of African origin; a truly diverse partnership!

Au Revoir

I had such a good time with my Dida; it was over much too quickly, and now I can’t wait to visit my half-homeland and see (for the first time) Dadu and Budida and Mashi and all the other family members and friends I have heard so much about!

Dida and I had a whale of a time. You’ve read about my Annaprashan and how much fun that was. We also visited the very atmospheric Bronte Parsonage in the little village of Haworth on the windswept Yorkshire Moors. I had a lively discussion about the relative merits of the novels of the three Bronte sisters with one of the tour guides there. I also enjoyed my apple juice at the little café on Haworth’s quaint main street which Branwell used to frequent (for his supply of Laudanum Mommy said, I don’t know what that is, a kind of cake, perhaps?). Mommy and Daddy did not seem to approve of my interior decorating efforts when I tipped half of Mommy’s salad on the floor (I thought it looked better there). I’m sure Dida appreciated it though!

We also visited Haddon Hall in the Derbyshire Dales. Dida loves history and literature just like Mommy so she loved Haddon Hall which has links with both. I had a relaxing sleep in my sling (attached to Daddy’s chest) through the medieval section, but woke up in time for the mini museum at the end of the tour which had an interesting collection of artefacts, all discovered when the Hall was renovated in the early 20th century. I drew Daddy’s attention to the little, weathered children’s shoes that had been unearthed under the floorboards in the old nursery. My purpose was twofold; it was an interesting exhibit and I could do with some shoes! Mommy and Daddy haven’t bought me any yet because they think babies don't need them till they can toddle, but ever since Cousin Eleanor pointed out my shoelessness in France, I have yearned for shoes.

We wrapped up the evening with a meal at our local pub. Dida does not have a pub in her locality (plenty of good restaurants though), so she wanted to sample ours', nor does she get too many opportunities to have beef steak in Calcutta as it is not that popular there.

Dida’s English sojourn ended with our Diwali celebration. Grandma and Grandad joined us for a lamp-lit cuppa and chocolate cake from Tesco’s (an old Indian tradition)!

And so, Dida’s month with me flew by, filled with fun, laughter, Indian celebrations, English history and most of all, the Bengali songs she sung to me about pomegranate-laden Kabuliwallahs and critters called Hattimatimtim.

I haven’t forgotten your songs Dida, I’ve been singing them to Mommy since you left, and when I see you next, you can teach me a few new ones (especially those about critters- they make the best songs)!

See you soon in Calcutta!

Silver Spoon

I wasn’t born with one in my mouth but many of my friends and some of my family (India is a long way away and unfortunately, not everyone could join us) came together last Saturday to make up for that. What was the occasion, you say? It was my ‘Annaprashan’- a Bengali rite of passage marking a baby’s first solid feed. For this special first feed, Dida gave me a beautiful set of silver dishes she had had inscribed in Calcutta, one of which was a delicately crafted tumbler which had belonged to her as a child. She also brought me elegantly embroidered traditional Indian clothes to wear for my big day. And the proverbial silver spoon, of course, was a gift from Mashi, and very pretty it is, too.

The event started with my English family arriving just as I had got into the dashing day outfit sent by Shanta Mashi Dida. I was excited to see that even Great Grandad and Grandma and G. Aunty Nellie had made the trip for my special day! My friends trooped in before long and soon everyone was tucking into an array of dishes (almost as many as there were guests). The ceremony followed; a rice and milk mix was spooned up by one Grandma while I sat on the other’s lap. Flashbulbs popped as I wolfed it down to everyone's delight (I had been told the best food had been reserved for me but I have my doubts about that; Daddy’s lamb curry seemed to go down a storm).

With the spotlight squarely on me, Mommy brought ‘round a tray of pretty little objects symbolising different abilities and assets, e.g. a little silver palanquin for social status and a brightly covered book of Bengali tales for wisdom (and a few odds and ends they’d obviously just chucked in at random). I was supposed to pick three to show the path I'd take in later life (I think Mommy, Daddy and Dida made this up to give me a better shot at choosing the right objects, I’m reliably informed most babies just get the one chance)! Guess what I picked? A cricket ball for sporting ability, the clay pot signifying wealth and a miniature silver cart that stood for fancy wheels. I think the comparisons with Tendulkar are inevitable, don’t you? Right down to the Schumacher-gifted Ferrari that got stuck in Customs! Everyone was very happy for me; in fact, I hear Bilky Mashi is already planning her retirement.

The evening ended with fond farewells, a manly heart to heart with my friend Eddie, and an attempt by Mommy and Daddy to show off my prowess with the Jumperoo (I refused to perform however; my adventures in the Jumperoo is a secret I share with the tribes of the Amazon). When our guests had gone and the dust settled, I unwrapped my pile of presents from around the world to discover wonderful toys, books and clothes (although I must admit that the cardboard boxes are my favourite). All in all, it was the most perfect day and I’d like to thank everyone who attended (even in spirit) for making it so!

Jumperoo Jack Flash

They call me Jack Flash, Jumperoo Jack Flash. The Native Americans of deepest darkest Amazon call me this because I’m agile and quick-witted. Many-a-time have I helped them vanquish nasty crocs and other creepy crawlies that threaten their homes and children (one child reported encountering a one-eyed crocodile who waved a knife under his nose and said ‘Oi’ in a menacing way). My feats of daring have established my reputation with them as ‘One to Depend on to Do the Best Of Derring-do’s’ (to be considered an ODD BOD is the highest honour amongst the tribes of the Amazon Rainforest).

This weekend I was back in the Amazon helping a venerable tribal chief rescue his daughter from some oversized bugs. They had flown off with her, mistaking her for one of their own as she was prancing about in a neon green polka dotted catsuit which the chief had brought back from New York where he occasionally went to watch his favourite Broadway musicals. But I digress. The Toms Toms summoned me to the Amazon and at the head of a handful of tribal Braves I stormed the bugs’ bastion and reunited the doting chief and his daughter. I sustained a few scratches (which Mommy questioned me about but my lips are sealed; the rainforest tribes are a reclusive people) but I think you will find the bugs fared much worse and it will be many years before they consider kidnapping another badly dressed child.

That I am writing this at all is because I want to debunk the myth that I am a superhero before I become the stuff of legend and over-the-top-tabloid tales.

I am merely human. When I scratch myself (as I do quite often in a tizzy because I’ve been put in my crib) I definitely bleed. What I do have, however, is a secret weapon- a wonderful, bouncing, music-playing, light-flashing, animal-noise-emitting vehicle (for want of a better word to describe this unique thing) which carries me into these adventures and then away, unscathed.

My Swiss aunt and uncle bought it for me thinking it would make a brilliant toy but little did they know that it was capable of much more! It has been my trusty steed in times of need and my inspiration in tight corners (like the time I outwitted a troupe of terrible toucans who held me captive in their tree, but that’s another story). I bow to you my comrade-in-arms, and to Bilky Mashi and Olaf Mesho, I say 'thank you'! For some reason Mommy and Daddy want to thank them too for ‘peace at mealtimes’- beats me what that’s about...

Our Survey Says...

…that the majority of people (37%) who voted for who I look like most voted for Mommy. And so, I've posted this picture of Mommy being crowned a beauty queen because if you look like me you gotta be a champion looker, haven’t you (after all, everyone tells me I’m a cutie)? Daddy came an honourable second with 29% of the votes though many maintain (including Mommy) that I look more like Daddy but runners-up don’t merit a picture sporting a sparkly tiara! And poor ol’ George Clooney was relegated to an also-ran, mostly because he isn’t, of course, nearly as cute or cuddly as I am (Mashi said this; the real one, I think, not the imposter). As for the rest, well, they don’t even deserve a mention with the kind of votes they got! Can I tell you what I think though? I feel I’m the perfect blend of Mommy and Daddy, and I can’t think of a better look than that for any baby! Before I wrap this up, however, I would like to thank everyone who’s voted and made this poll so much fun to monitor from day to day as first George, then Daddy and then Mommy, took the lead. Do keep dropping in, Amigos Mios, and commenting and voting because I’m having a blast writing my blog for all of you!

D is for Dida

A is for Anindita. B is for Boeing. C is for Coming to visit, and D is for Delighted (and Dida)!

Anindita is my Dida, Mommy’s mommy, and she flew into Heathrow on a Boeing 747 to meet me for the first time last Sunday. And I’m delighted to say we get along like a house on fire!

I must admit that I wasn’t too pleased when Mommy and Daddy dragged me out of bed at 0430 am on Sunday morning but that was because I had forgotten what it was for. It’s not something I would ever do, you see; wake them up in the middle of the night.

After a long, tiring (sleeping is an exhausting business, I tell you) drive, we arrived at this huge, cavernous place filled with people jostling for a better view of something. I thought it might be the paparazzi waiting for me (as they do) but they seemed distinctly disinterested when I turned up. Only a few turned and smiled and an old lady attempted to tickle my chin which I dodged rather deftly.

As it turned out we were at Heathrow Airport and the surging, neck-craning crowd was waiting for their friends and family to arrive. That’s when I remembered Dida was arriving that morning on a big plane called a Boeing (they call it that because of the noise it makes when it bounces on the runway) to meet me! Now I was excited!

But it was a whole hour before Dida turned up because the Immigration People (don’t ask me who they are but they sound like a boring lot) were feeling a wee bit lonely (as they often do, Mommy told me) and were stopping everyone for very long chats. I was the first to spot Dida in the crowd- a little lady dressed like an Eskimo, just like Daddy said she would be- and head-butted Daddy to draw his attention. Soon I was scooped up into a lovely, silky bedspread (Mommy says it’s called a sari) and given a cuddle.

Daddy drove us home after that, with Mommy and Dida talking nineteen to the dozen in Bengali. I could join in because I am already multilingual (English, Bengali and Baby). By the time we’d got home, Dida and I had become the best of friends and as she’s going to be here for a month, we’re going to have a groovy (Dida is a child of the 60’s) time together. Anything that does not involve going outside, of course, just in case it’s too cold!

I know people around the world are waiting with bated breath for the minutiae of our adventures together this autumn (especially Dadu who, unfortunately, couldn’t join us this time). So, watch this space for further details (like will she or won’t she venture into 'the cold')!

What Syon Did Next

Since my last post, I have clocked a few more firsts.

I am now turning over on to my stomach and trying to crawl. I can’t really get anywhere much yet but everyone says I’m doing things before my time and it won’t be long before I can walk. At the moment though, I find it frustrating not to be able to go places, and occasionally my attempts end in tears. I also intend to learn to get on the big chair in front of the computer by myself as soon as possible, so Mommy can stop taking credit for helping me with my blog more than she actually does (don’t get me wrong, I love Mommy to bits, but she does exaggerate)!

I also have plenty to say. To the casual observer, my conversations with Mommy or Daddy might sound like this:
Me: Oi ei ooh ga ga
Them: Is it time for your nappy change, Sweetheart?
Me: Oooh henga ham ei oi eh eh
Them: Milk, you want milk, Baby?
Me: Aah goo ga humma Mom
Them: Poor Babes, isn’t Panda playing with you?
But it’s just a cover for those deep meaningful discussions of ours' that could attract the wrong kind of attention (you know the kind I mean, the ‘Oxbridge Scouting Committee for Prodigal Babies’ and that sort of thing).
In reality, our conversations go like this:
Me: So, you say that Stonehenge was a centre for healing but I still feel the temple theory has more credibility.
Them: Recent research would suggest, however, that the ailing travelled to Stonehenge from all over Europe including the ‘Amesbury Archer’ from Switzerland.
Me: Ah, but haven’t the very ill always congregated at places of worship in the hope of a miracle cure?
etc...

People are always telling Mommy and Daddy that I will be speaking in no time. I never bother to correct them; I am already speaking, just not in their tongue. They get all excited when I say ‘Mom’, like the lady in the shop the other day, because I’m not five months yet, but I’ve been saying that for simply aaages. Obviously, I will have to learn Big People Speak fairly quickly so complete strangers stop prattling on at me in some made-up language they think I’ll understand!

Strange things are also happening to my hair. Most of my abundant dark pelt of newborn hair is now gone and just as I was getting used to the super-shiny Bruce Willis look, Mommy’s noticed a few new sprigs coming through. Daddy’s keeping his fingers crossed that my new hair does not turn ginger!

Right-O! I am hungry again and must go. What’s your bet my next development update is all about the wonders of baby rice?!!

Syonix in Gaul

In the little village of Villepot in faraway Gaul, Syonix and his tribe rented a hut (a very large hut with a pool, more often called a villa) for a week’s holiday. With him were Obelix, Cacofonix, Vitalstatistix…..

Well, no, actually, it was Daddy, Mommy, Grandad, Grandma, Uncle David, Aunty Louise and Cousin Eleanor who went to France with me. Our luggage did not contain a single winged helmet, harp, obelisk, or vial of invincibility potion but Daddy could have easily passed for Getafix the Druid with all the mistletoe-spotting he did on holiday!

It was a week of many firsts for me- my first holiday, first trip abroad, first ferry ride and first swim (the last two, fortunately, not related)! Our first day there was nice and warm so I got into my very first pair of swimming trunks (blue, rather than the red Mommy liked, to avoid the inevitable comparisons with David Hasselhoff), and jumped into the invitingly turquoise (Mommy says descriptions are a must in travelogues) pool in a floating thingie, with Daddy. I didn’t stay long; the water turned out to be absolutely freezing and I retired to the warmth of Mommy’s arms at the poolside very quickly. Mommy had earlier, very wisely, decided against going in, after the toe she dipped into the water turned blue! I shall throw my rubber duckies in before me the next time I try swimming; if they stay their usual pokerfaced selves, I’ll know it’s OK to go in!

We also spent a lovely day nosing about the market in Chateaubriant and returned to the villa weighed down with Gallic delicacies, which I got to taste too, in a roundabout way! The one mystery remained the contents of Doner’s dad’s market stall (‘Doner Kebap’ said the sign on the shack) which drew great numbers from amongst the market-goers. Mommy was very tickled when I asked her about this, but all I got by way of explanation was something about the same dish having slightly different names around the world!

All in all, a week full of new experiences for me; I have yet another and a very special first coming up at the end of September when I meet my Dida for the first time!

Mamma Mia!

Last Saturday was Mommy’s 21st birthday (that’s what Daddy advised me to write). We had weekend-long celebrations planned and what a weekend it was!

It started on Friday when I went to see the local doctor about my TB vaccination scab which wasn’t looking so good. The doctor said it had got infected and put me on antibiotics. That evening Mommy went out with some mummies (not the bandaged kind) from our street; this gave me and Daddy the opportunity to wrap her birthday gifts. I got Mommy a book of nursery rhymes with lots of pretty pictures; this was a really clever gift because I get to enjoy it too when Mommy reads it out! Daddy's obviously nowhere near as clever as he got Mommy her favourite historical novels and rom com DVD’s which aren’t his thing at all. On Saturday night, Daddy cooked us a delicious meal (it was for Mommy really, I had to settle for the liquid option, followed by a nasty shot of antibiotics). Then, on Sunday evening, we all went out for dinner, and that's when things got really exciting…

Just as Mommy and Daddy were tucking into Dessert, I felt a wee bit poorly and puked...and puked again. Mommy and Daddy took me home but I kept throwing up and became very drowsy and lethargic. They were quite worried, especially as I was on medication, so Mommy called the helpline and they sent a tall, friendly man dressed in green. I thought he might be the Jolly Green Giant, but he didn’t bring us any canned peas or sweet corn, so, maybe not (Daddy told me later he was a paratrooper - or something beginning with ‘para’ anyway)!

The big green man conducted some tests on me that showed I was okay; but as I was still unusually sleepy and ‘lagbage’ (Daddy’s favourite Bengali word), he was a bit concerned and thought the excitement of a ride in an ambulance with an oxygen mask on would wake me up. This might have worked but the ambulance set off without Daddy who had to chase after me and Mommy in his car, they then forgot to take us home and dropped us off at a place called A&E instead (dunno what they were up to - I guess it's not easy being green)!

I'm still not sure what A&E stands for, but it has to do with waiting, as we all waited a very long time. Fortunately, one of the other people waiting turned out to be a Paediatrician who said I'd fallen ill because of the medicine the local doctor had given me. I am pleased to say that now that I have stopped taking it, I am back to my usual self again… HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY!
Note:This picture was taken seconds before I started throwing up, so if I don't look my usual dashing self, you know why!

100 Not Out

I was planning this blog entry to commemorate the 100^th hit on my baby blog. The celebration has been somewhat dampened, however, by my critics who have suggested that Mommy helps me with my blog. Well, I can confirm that they are....CORRECT! Yes, I must confess, embarrassing as it is for a grown-up baby like me to admit, I need my Mommy to lift me onto the chair by the computer. I had hoped to be able to do that on my own by now, but it appears I take after Daddy who was a 'late developer' (according to Mommy). All journalistic input is entirely my own, however. And to prove that, I have attached a short video of me writing this post for all the Doubting Thomases out there. On a happier note, on this occasion of my centennial hit, I would like to thank all my fans who read my blog. I especially enjoy your encouraging comments. Special thanks must go to Mashi who unfailingly comments on every piece, spurring me on to greater things (a toddler tome in the near future, perhaps). And so, to everyone who came, saw, and returned for more, please carry on Syon-ing in (he he)!

What's in a Name?

A lot of people have commented on the uniqueness of my name (in the UK). Many have said how lovely it is. Mommy and Daddy are very pleased with that because they looked high and low to find a name that both represented my dual heritage and also meant something good. Syon means 'twilight' in Sanskrit and 'gift of God' in Gaelic. As twilight or dusk is the merging of day into night, creating a beautiful time of day, it perfectly represents the coming together of my parents' different backgrounds in me. It's important to say it right though, otherwise the meaning changes, as with all Sanskrit names. You can call me 'Sigh-un' or in the original Bengali way, 'Shy-un', but it should always rhyme with lion. The best way to remember how to pronounce it is to think Bob Marley (Lion in Zion), and then watch my face light up in recognition (as in this picture) because I'll know you're talking to me!

Mirror, Mirror...

No, I don't want to know who's the fairest, that's strictly for evil queens in fairy tales, but I would love to find out who you think I look like most- Mommy, Daddy or any of the other options on the little poll I've set up (on the right). Comparisons with George Clooney have indeed been made, I'll have you know (and not just by Mommy), but parallels have also been drawn with Mr Greedy from Mr Men (ouch, a growing lad's gotta eat)! The speculation started as soon as I was born. First, I looked like Mommy and now I'm told I look like Daddy. Grandma thinks I look like Dadu, and Mommy sees similarities with Mashi, and so on. So, I thought now was a good time to settle the matter once and for all with a public poll. After all, I'm quite grown up now at three and a half months and won't be changing loads more, will I?! So, please do vote and if you don't think I resemble anyone on the list (though how can you not when George Clooney is an option), then please comment on who you think I look like.

Sherpa Syon

Yesterday, Mommy, Daddy and I climbed to the Everest Basecamp in the Himalayas. Though all of my gang wanted to come along, only Kicky the Kung-Fu Tiger was allowed, to protect us from the Abominable Snowman with whom he has grappled in the past and won (so he says)! We did this after Daddy came home from work. We packed quickly and off we went. Mommy packed her case and mine with warm clothing. I clearly remember her telling Daddy to pack his woollen socks but Daddy forgot (Mommy insisted I make this clear). Which is why, as you can see in this picture Mommy's taken of Daddy, Kicky and me in our tent in the mountains, Daddy has no socks. And because Daddy had no socks to protect his feet from frostbite, we couldn't climb to the top although we had been making great progress. We didn't see the Yeti either though I do believe Kicky could've wiped the glaciers with him. Easy. He is a battle-hardened Himalayan Tiger after all. Anyway, we came back home before midnight because it was way past my bedtime. Daddy went back to work today but not before promising me another shot at Everest when we've got our socks in order!
Click here for a better view of me in my tent

A Literary Triumph!

Once in a rare while, you come across a book that is a real page turner, one that you want to dip into again and again. 'Bouncy Lamb' is one such book. Since Daddy brought it home for me, I have read it 37 times, and each time discovered a fresh nuance or a startling new fact I had missed before. For example, did you know that dogs like bones? This is obliquely referred to on page three; it's not in-your-face, the author doesn't overemphasise it, but it does make you look at dogs with new eyes.

Furthermore, the writer, Mr. Ladybird, has an elegant way of expressing himself that instantly appeals. There is music in lines like the one about the Cuddly Cat - 'Rub her tum' (goes tum-ti-tump-ti-dum in your head, you see).

The character development is superb. By the end of the book, Curly Snail and Softy Rabbit have become your friends, and you don't hesitate to feel Snail's shell or touch Softy's tail. You identify with the whole cast of characters in a way that a lesser book could never have got you to do. You have no trouble believing that they are every bit as cuddly as you!

All in all, a touching book with vivid characterisation and a great deal of local colour (the barnyard truly comes alive) which I wholeheartedly recommend to all babies.

It has been a rewarding experience too - a great read washed down with lots of milk - my idea of heaven! And in critiquing it, I may have found a vocation...

Syon the Lionheart, Pirate's Son

At my sixth week health review, our local doctor listened to my heart and thought he heard it go lub-dub-whoosh,lub-dub-whoosh rather than lub-dub, lub-dub, which, he said was not the best thing it could do. So, yesterday, Mommy, Daddy, Grandad and Grandma took me to see a Baby Heart Doctor (a doctor who checks babies' hearts, not a Cardiologist of my age, you understand). He also had a listen and said he heard a strong lub-dub, lub-dub. He was so pleased with this, he gave me a clean bill of health (I think this must be the crisp pink slip Mommy tucked into my change bag). He said I didn't have to go back to see him (good, 'cos I've slept in a lot of hospital waiting rooms now and this one isn't my favourite). The most interesting part of the day was when Daddy turned up with a patch over his eye after seeing another doctor at the hospital. Mommy said he looked rakish. But I don't think Daddy went to see a doctor at all, after all, I didn't get an eye patch from my doctor, did I?! I think Daddy must have joined a band of buccaneers and I'm raring to go on swashbuckling adventures with him!

What's New, Pussycat?

I am almost 3 months old now and can do many things I couldn't do at first. Here's a list, for my faraway family members, of some of the grown-up things I have done in the last few weeks:

1. I laugh and play with Mommy and Daddy every day. I play with my toys too (sometimes a little roughly but they need to know who's boss)!
2. I have a whole new range of sounds to express new emotions; I coo when I'm happy, yelp when surprised, cry for 'Maaaa' and sometimes, I say 'Hello' (Mashi will back me up on this one)!
3. I wipe my own face with my muzzie or any bit of cloth I can lay my hands on. The naysayers have told Mommy it's a coincidence but she knows better!
4. I indicate when I'm hungry by opening my mouth wide and miming spooning food in. I don't need to tell Mommy when my nappy is full because she has a sensitive nose (although my long suffering expression helps as well, I'm sure)!
5. I grab and guide Mommy and Daddy's fingers into my mouth when I feel like chewing on something because I might be teething already.
6. I like to sit upright on Mommy or Daddy's knee, with my legs dangling, facing forward so I can see what's going on in the world around me (lying down is for babies)!

7. I love my first book which Daddy has got me and I am completely taken with the 'bouncy lamb' and the 'curly snail'.....

I can't wait till Dida and Dadu, Grandma and Grandad and all the other friends and family members I don't get to see enough of, can see me do all these things!

Fight Night

Last night, Mommy, Daddy and I were woken up by a loud growling noise. At first I thought it was Daddy's tummy, but we soon discovered it was coming from my nursery. Daddy grabbed the camera and took this photo of Kicky and Gerry at each other's throats while Mommy broke up the fight. It turns out that, fuelled by Aunty Michelle and Mashi's comments, Gerry and Kicky had been arguing as to who was my best friend and things had got out of hand. I spent all day today (when I wasn't feeding, anyway) explaining to them that they were my joint best friends. The truth is, as fond as I am of my furry friends, I love my family and FOOD even more!

By Public Demand...

This is me as I am now. Some of the women in my life - Mommy, Dida, & Mashi - insisted I post a recent photo of myself where I looked 'more (Gregory) Peck than Shrek'. They didn't want any girl babies who happened on this site to think I still look as battered and bruised as I did at birth (I was a forceps baby). So, here I am all scrubbed up and ready to party!

Meet My Gang

In the middle is Gerry Le Giraffe (Mr G.L.G Matekoni to you), my first recruit and lieutenant. Below Gerry, his matronly missus Hatima who sings me to sleep. Then there's Kicky, the Kung-Fu Tiger from Bangalore who's taught me to high kick while lying down! I put my new skills to use when I play a game of kick-the-blankie every time Mommy lays one over me for my afternoon nap. On Gerry's left is Bear; she's so shy she hasn't told me her name yet but she has a lovely singing voice (though you have to twist her tail to get anything out of her)! Luciano 'the loud' ladybird is also a part of my menagerie, he has scrunchy antennae and a shiny tummy that keep me entertained for hours. And finally, my newest friend, Tony the Tiger. Tony used to live at Longleat but he was very lonely there so my Grandparents brought him home to join my gang.

Meet the Parents

Here is a picture of me with my parents. My father's name is Daddy and my Mother's name Mommy. I have Daddy's ginger eyebrows and Mommy's black hair at this point but that may all change (fingers crossed) as I'm changing every day! I also have blue-grey eyes which Mommy hopes will not change as they are different from everyone else's in the family.
Daddy goes out to work every day. I think his job involves burping babies, because Mommy says he's an expert. Mommy used to work too but now spends the day looking after me (or that's what I want her to think, but it's really me keeping an eye on her like Daddy's asked me to). Mommy and Daddy love me loads. They are always kissing me which is embarassing for a grown-up baby like me. And I love them lots but I make sure I squirm like mad so that they are in no doubt that I think they overdo it!
...Oh look at the time, I'm due my hourly feed! Come back tomorrow and I'll introduce you to the crew from my crib.

First Post

No, this isn't me following a K.O. defeat in the boxing ring - it's a picture taken by my dad when I was 5 minutes old. I was born at 3:15a.m. on 3rd May 2008 and weighed 2.88kg (or 6lb 6oz in old money). I am pleased to report that a few hours and a bath later I looked a lot less like a potato.