conflict resolves

The bug or chocolate conflict was continuing for few more days. To facilitate a resolution, I left the thing in a very visible place, but it was not working. Daivik was getting increasingly convinced that it was not real ("otherwise it will not be still here", "see, the legs are still bent outside"), but paradoxically was trying hard to convince me to open it for him. When it was not working, he asked Avin who came home one day to open the chocolate for him. Now Avin had no idea of the preceding drama, and was about to open it. Daivik's eyes lit  up brightly and with a wide grin he started to wait for the finally-now moment. I tried to explain the situation to Avin, but how to do that without dampening Daivik's excitement or Avin's eagerness ?

Daivik was getting restless with the almost opened I'm-sure-its-chocolate in front of him, I was eager for an amicable resolution to the conflict, Avin was half comprehending the situation and trying to think fast. The chocolate was still with Avin who was still in the process of opening it but was starting to try to ask Daivik more about it. The moment became pregnant, everybody involved were on the edge and it became obvious that something was definitely going to happen. The choco-bug was getting ready to finally meet  its destiny, it must have been a terrible suspense for the poor thing. 


What happened next is a bit of a blur. In a matter of microseconds, the chocolate exchanged hands, the cover was forcibly torn open and the whole of it ended up inside  Daivik's mouth. After few seconds of all around silence, a still grinning Daivik made a chocolaty announcement, "Appa, see, it is not a real bug".

conflict

Early in the morning Daivik wanted a big chocolate that was shaped like a lady bug. I remembered his previous rather, er, positive experience with lady bug. So to discourage him from the large chocolate that early, I asked him gently if he was sure it was a chocolate and confused him further by suggesting, "perhaps it is a real lady bug?". The effect was dramatic : he immediately flung the thing down.

But a chocolate - real or not - is a chocolate. After the impact had subsided he suggested to me "can you check if it is crawling ? If it is not, I think, it may be a chocolate". So, I "checked", and, what a wonder, it was not crawling. I reported it to him. He suggested that in that case, I should keep it on the table for further examination, which I compiled with. He had a good look at it from a safe distance and reported his results : "Appa, I think it is not real bug because a) real bug is small, this is big (shows the size by hand), b) real bug has black spots, this has white, c) real bug's legs are "bent inside", this is "outside". Therefore it is chocolate bug. Can you open it".

I said "if you are so sure it is not real bug why not open it yourself". The next moments were precious. He was simultaneously taking a step forward and withdrawing it, drawing his hand forward and retracting it. I realised I was witnessing a rather primal contest, a conflict between conviction and fear, between the decisions we make and the ones that makes us. I thought perhaps it is better if he makes this important choice by himself. When I returned back after some minutes it had taken a funny form. He was standing at a safe 1.5 feet from the "bug" and asking it, literally, "lady bug, are you real ? Or not ? Tell me. Now. Soon".

girls like it !

Daivik and me were working in the garden when I spotted a lady-bug on a leaf. The large palm shaped leaf was almost fluorescent green in the afternoon light, the bright red ladybug with black spots was sitting right in the middle, making it a very pretty sight. I called Daivik to have a look. He saw the scene and asked if he can ‘pink’ it. I didn’t quite get if he said pink or ping, but said okay mostly to keep him engaged, wondering at the same time how do you ping a bug (does it have a RFID tag or something…).

He took a pink colored chalk and started painting a nearby wooden board rather furiously. I got curious after he continued it for longer than his usual attention half-life of 2.3 seconds. So I asked him what he was doing. He was making the board pink. And why? With utmost sincerity he said ‘because girls like pink’. I didn’t understand the connection until he explained the logic: Ladybug is a girl, girls like pink, so he is making the board pink.

I was too flabbergasted to react, but he continued onto his next project of dissolving the remaining chalk in a bowl of water. He was making a pink swimming pool for his lady (bug).