Did you say Bangla????

And so my life has become a three-ring circus.
During the week I attend 5 hrs of intense bengali language classes from 7.30 am to 12.30, then the Diplomat swiftly drives me to downtown DC to begin working from 1 pm to about 8ish pm, after which I dash home to catch a glimpse of Son primly pajama-ed and pleasantly smelling of baby shampoo. If I am on time, I get to read a book with him in bed. If not, I get to morosely sit and eat dinner and feel like a crappy mommy. On top of that, I try hard to catch up on the class material I have missed during the first two weeks of bengali (I joined the class later in the game), which means going to bed at 12 and getting up at 5.30am to feverishly recite scores of incomprehensible words like urodjahadj and punghanapungko. I was so severely underslept that I think half of this week I was asleep and was dreaming about being at work or in class, I am not sure. All I know for sure is that I am surrounded by piles of small green index cards filled with Bengali words, which I carry with me everywhere and pull out to recite at every opportunity (like, when I go to the bathroom, for example).

This weekend I finally got to sleep--the Diplomat graciously let me sleep in on both days since Son has picked up the unsavory habit of getting up at 6.30 am. I also finally found time to put together the digital piano and play it clumsily for my rapturous domestic audience consisting of Son, who keeps insisting that I play Baa Baa Black Sheep on it while sitting on my lap and pressing the keys alongside with me, and me trying to constantly remove his sticky apple-saucy fingers from the keys. Once we play that lyrical masterpiece, he decides he wants to sing Twinkle twinkle little star (as you are painfully aware, I am sure, that song has the same exact melody). Not happy with Twinkle twinkle, he moves on to the ABC song, which AGAIN, has the same melody. He (and I and the Diplomat and quite possibly Fat Cat) has spent this weekend endlessly humming to himself, alternating between Twinkle Twinkle, Baa Baa Black Sheep and the ABC song. I cannot get the idiotic melody out of my head. Not sure if you knew this, but the melody was actually written by Mozart and was the base for 12 variations, which I played as a child and which are wickedly tough. It must be fate that I get to play this for my child now. One thing is for sure--we were both immensely impressed and swelling with pride because, as it turns out, Son knows the words to all three (damned) songs! Another thing he kept doing this weekend is line up his cars and count them like this: one, two, thee, fou, seven, eigh, nine, seven. For hours on end. Then another happy performance of Twinkle Twinkle...Good times!
This weekend we also went to the second birthday of Son's best pal E, son of M&M. There was a fire-truck cake there with massive quantities of awesome red frosting there. I wanted to lick the entire cake but suspected it would be frowned upon by most adults and some of the children. So, I ate as much as I could as graciously as I could. Then there were red-frosted cupcakes. I ate only one and a half, pretending to be giving some to Son. I figured people would start noticing if I had more. I wanted to though. So, to curb my appetite, I pulled out the deck of green (shombudj) index cards and chanted a few bangla words, realizing I do not remember a single one of them. My appetite immediately subsided.