Paltu..

Paltu is my daughter's dog. No, its not a real one but a stuffed toy. And they share a Calvin n Hobbes relationship. For all the eight and a half months that I carried her, I strictly refrained from reading anything remotely related to Calvin. Not because I have already read it all, Calvin fans would agree you can never have enough of the little imp and his stuffed tiger. He enthralls, amuses, surprises, delights, at times even disgusts you, but you just can't help loving him. I avoided Calvin because I did not want my unborn baby to be influenced by him. Everybody enjoys little naughty kids but the parents, and I shiver at the thought of having an over-the-board kid like him. My efforts, however have not paid off. Already, my little one has started doing things that smell perilously of Calvin, the most prominent being her love and excessive attachment to this stuffed dog, Paltu. Now, I am not saying it is weird or anything other than normal. We all have imaginary friends as kids and often discover them in our toys. She carries Paltu everywhere and even sleeps with it. Fine. She talks to it, or shall I say 'him' in long sentences, scolds him by pulling his ears and pampers him by hugging him close or at times by giving little pecks on his nose. Fine again. Now listen to this. She demands that her nanny put baby cream all over Paltu's cloth-n-fur body, and then dress him up just like Her Highness after every bath that 'she' takes. Also, Paltu has to be seated on a high chair and fed as much as she is. Poor thing, he now has turmeric stains all over his mouth and nose. And then, if being smothered with baby cream and eating rice-dal was not enough, Paltu now sports my contact lenses too. The moment my little lady got hold of the discarded lenses, she immediately went and put them in his eyes. Hmmm.. looks like I am not the only one myopic in this household...