Image courtesy : clipartof.com via Google
I’ve written a lot many times that I’m, of late, unable to keep pace with Pecan’s questions. The questions are no longer straight and simple. For that matter, they are anything but simple. He has this tendency to get hooked by some subject or the other and he would then go in depth into that subject till he's all but wrung it dry.
Also, until a few months back, his forays and explorations into a particular subject were pretty much limited to the realm of books and his unsuspecting parents. Life was a lot simpler then. Now, with the world wide web having opened its arms and welcomed Pecan in, he has discovered a whole new world. A world which not only gives him the answers he seeks but also feeds that fertile mind with fresh questions. For every answer he finds on the internet, he also comes back with a couple of fresh questions upon which he unleashes his skills of investigation.
All in all, Pecan’s jurisdiction is no longer restricted to one subject of interest. He now believes in multiples. His parents, whose grey cells can probably run a steeplechase before saying “OK – that’s it for the day” are now being made to run two or three marathons in a day. At this rate, Pecan’s parents are soon going to develop rather muscular grey cells – what with all the exercise which Pecan makes their grey cells undertake !!
Pecan’s current sphere of interest includes geography/maps/atlas, World War II, Volcanoes and of late, much to my panic, if I may add, the vast world of human anatomy. Why panic ? Because this is Pecan we are talking about. The questions that come our way are direct and rather pointed. There is no question of side stepping the questions nor is there any possibility of working around the question and leading him nowhere. It simply fetches me a rather impatient and weary look from him which speaks volumes – that is to say “Do you really think I’m going to buy that answer ?”or “Maybe you could fool a baby with that one. Not me.”Pecan simply zips from one topic of interest to another with the ease of monkeys swinging from branches in the Amazonian jungle. Keeping pace with this movement from one topic to another leaves me feeling dizzy at times. Very often, I'm left wondering why I am still on the platform after the train has long left.
This interest in the human anatomy started with the fact that they had this as a Unit of Enquiry at school last year. The interest really caught on after he saw that episode on America’s Funniest Videos one Saturday. AFV does not know that they have unwittingly unleashed a Sherlock Holmes who currently seems to have decided that not enough survey has been done on that part of the human anatomy called the breasts. By surveys, I do not mean staring or ogling. A survey, in Pecanese, means scientific investigation, questions (on How and Why and When and of course, the Why nots), a research driven survey to determine statistics. Fortunately for us, he is, as yet, totally clinical in his approach towards the said survey.
A few days back, he had a lot of queries on breastfeeding. As usual, there was a barrage of puzzled Why’s, mystified How’s – basically, the whole works !! Being a good parent and all that, not wanting to sidestep the issue (gah ! it does not work with him), his mom had answered all his questions – looking all the while like a lamb being led to the slaughterhouse.
Today morning, while helping him shower before he headed off to school, I was, as always, facing a whole barrage of questions. Suddenly he lapsed into silence while I could hear those wheels clanking and turning at full speed. It reminded me of that scene from Titanic (ok – that was a pun so not intended) where the whole machinery is turning at full speed and then it stops and reverses. You get the picture, right ?
“Mummy, you said that babies are breastfed, right ?” asked Pecan. "Yes, not all. But many are", I said, giving him a long answer, not wanting to disturb the database which he was sure to have collected. If I'd simply said "Yes", I'm pretty sure he would have pounced on that little discrepancy. "But how do the breasts know that they have to make milk ?" queried Pecan, looking totally befuddled. "Nature takes care of it". I said. "Remember what happens to turtles when they hatch. They somehow know that they have to get across the sand and into the water if they are to survive. How do they know that ? Simply because nature programs it into living beings. This too, is similar." I said, not wanting to lead him into the convoluted world of hormones and the like. That would have been akin to waving a red flag in front of an enraged bull. Only difference being that Pecan would have been absolutely delighted to have a fresh hormonal topic to investigate.
Pecan fell silent for a few seconds as he mulled over something. As clinical as ever, a few seconds later, his investigation apparently having been deemed complete and his conclusions drawn, Pecan declared "OK. So that means when the babies are small, the mummies are the cows."
A whole litany of Mooooooooooo Moooooooooooos sounding inside my head, I could not help but burst out laughing at that little face which was staring at me with mischief dancing in those eyes.
Did I not say he is clinical in his approach ?
A tad too much, me thinks !!
To be honest, I'm not sure whether women would find it funny to be called bovine. I did, maybe because Pecan is my
Do you hear any Moooooooooooooo Moooooooooooos or is it just me ??