17. THE WONDER YEARS WITH MY KIDS - 2

Did you read "The Wonder Years With My Kids 1"?

Ten years later the boy wonder arrived. Click here if you didn't read Part 1. He was so special and we wanted him to be that way. So I experimented by like, playing the guitar and singing for him when he was still in mom's womb. He loved my music pre-natal and knew me so well.

Even after he was born he was a great music lover. He needed Jimmy Cliff or Beatles to sleep. He listened to them till the audio cassettes shredded.

I think the experiments were a success. Now we find him to be special as expected. He is so good at multi-tasking, he can watch TV while sketching or painting a picture or while working on a toy boat. He would dismantle a toy or anything unattended. Still he absorbs everything said on TV without missing anything.
We didn't restrict TV again, because he had to know the good and bad both. The bad words were named "Van Damme Words"by him, because he discovered Jean Claude Van Damme says them so often on movies. For a long time to come they were referred to as “Van Damme”, words.

One day I took him to my school (In Sri Lanka, Colombo) on a holiday as we had planned a staff trip to Muthurajawela wetlands along the Dutch canal and  mangrove swamp. As we entered the school premises he saw the security watch hut and asked' "Whose kennel is that?".   It says a lot about the naiive  view of a kid about the working conditions of a security guard, doesn’t it?

He started reading at a very young age, just like his sister and…. hmm the whole family. While the others in his age were reading Nursery books with big color pictures he was reading "Goose Bumps" and "Shivers".  At school here they were given a supplementary reader which he had finished reading several times over in the first few weeks. The class teacher had given him “N” grade which meant "Needs Improvement". Flabbergasted we met the teacher to know how come she makes such a stupid and poor judgment. "He can't read this", the teacher said. We suppressed out laughter and looked at the boy enquiringly, who blurted out, “I know this stuff by heart. I don't want to do any parrot reading."

When he was in grade one, he was getting ready to go to school. The dude and I used the same cologne. Usually mom is the one who sprays it on his collar. As usual she sprayed a bit on one side of his collar. He said “Spray on the other side, too, ‘cos the class teacher approaches from both the sides."

Do you know there is a little scoop like tool to clean the earwax? It's actually taboo as it can cause ear damage and ENT dudes frown upon even at the mere idea of it.
Well I used one anyway, but  very secretly. I never allowed the young one to see me using it nor ever have access to its location for very obvious reasons.
So I was 100% sure that I had never used it in his presence nor he had ever seen this incriminating gadget, until one day we visited this friend of mine in  Nittambuwa, Sri Lanka, who had no babies. My son surprised me by picking up a ear scooper from my friend’s coffee table and saying, “Thaththa, here look, he also uses a ear scoop just like you do.”  I was stunned.

When we shop in the cities whether  in Sri Lanka or even here we walk a lot. The boy never complained or asked to be carried. We realized how difficult this should have been for him when one day he sat on a shop stool and rested his feet. We wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable or guilty if he harassed us as any other boy.
The year we left for overseas jobs, Sri Lanka has a severe drought and there were scheduled power cuts. Full uninterrupted power was given only on Poya Days. We arrived in this country in the night flight and were waiting at the airport lobby ablaze with lights till morning to be picked up, the little one asked, “Is it Poya Day here today?” Several other Sri Lankans who heard this and saw the irony were so amused at this they became instant friends.

This story is not funny at all. We hadn’t brought much cash with us when we arrived here. And everything was unexpectedly, artificially and ridiculously expensive. What we had we had to spend so carefully till we got our first month’s salaries.  The little one who had a roomful of toys at home (both his and his sister’s) was fingering the toys in the shops here and but never asked for them. We gritted our teeth and prayed for the salary.

This actually sank our hearts. Specially this unusual attitude from a four year old.He must have heard our discussions about money.

The final blow came when we got out first salaries. He asked in his baby voice, “Now do you have money to show my tooth to the dentist? This was hurting for days.”
Actually he never told us and I felt the lump in my throat and turned my face away to hide the tears welled up in y eyes and streamed down my face. It didn’t work and I ran to the bathroom and cried in the shower.

Go to "The Wonder Years With My Kids 1" 

16. The Wonder Years With My Kids -1

Our elder kid Hiruni, a girl, had to grow up alone for 10 years because both of us are employed. Being a nuclear family, we didn’t have much help bringing her up.  So the first kid almost cost my wife her job.

She was five. We were moving back home after completing difficult area service. We were in the front of the truck. We stopped somewhere in Kandy and bought take away fried rice from a Chinese restaurant. She’s been sleeping all the time. When we parked and gave her the pack of fried rice she stared at mixed up fried rice sleepily and asked,

“What’s this? Cat food?”

We used to mix up all the left over rice and feed the stray cats.

We didn’t have many restrictions on watching TV, so she watched a lot of TV. It gave a lot of exposure and also acted as an effective babysitter under supervision. Even otherwise we didn’t have much choice. There were a lot of commercials she liked, too. Actually she enjoyed some commercials as much as or perhaps even more than the regular programs

One morning we woke her up to go to school. She mumbled sleepily,

 “Wait a minute till this commercial break is over…okay?”

Then we realized even her dreams had commercial breaks.

I still remember the day she rode wobbling when I removed both the guide wheels off her little mountain bike. She used to add accessories to this bike from time to time. She once bought a ta-ta hand, a yellow plastic hand fitted at the end of a metal rod that swung from side to side as the bike moved.  After practicing in the front yard she was eventually promoted to ride on the country road while my wife and I were riding ahead on the motor bike. And we had made the crash helmet mandatory for her. Once, while riding downhill mom yelled  

“Wait wait she’s not there.”

I stopped to see that she was not there to be seen actually. Then from the ditch appeared a blue helmet, followed by a small figure slightly scratched but generally unharmed. Then we pulled both child and the bike out of the ditch. She was fuming with rage. Later we found out the reason.  

“It’s okay falling down. That’s not the problem. This stupid ta-ta hand was saying ta-ta ta-ta all the time while I was fallen in the ditch.”

When she was a first grader I had to meet her class teacher one day to listen to her complaint that my kid had walked on the piano keyboard playing with feet creating a new genre of music.

She also had trouble with bullies. When all the complains fell into deaf ears and she was bullied behind the teachers’ backs, as a last resort I taught her some karate in self defense. (This had worked for me when I was bullied at school- a mixed type of street fighting) A few weeks later I was called again because she had assaulted the bullies not only with kicks and punches but also with her motorcycle crash helmet.

I just wondered how lonely she must be when one day I heard her bursting into the living room and blurting out,

“You are under arrest. Put your hand in the air!”

I whirled around to find her dressed in her commando kit pointing a toy revolver at her own chest with one hand, with the other hand in the air raised in surrender. She has been playing army and the rebels both.

Finally she played her trump card. The Principal who was a very kind lady and a well renowned author, had left a message for me to see her in her office. I tapped on her door expecting more trouble. 

“Hiruni came to meet me today Mr. Blogwalker,” she said, “… and she wants me to tell you as her principal that she needs a brother to play with.” 

I felt a lump in my throat.

Next: The Wonder Years With My Kids 2

15. THIS IS AMAZING DUDES

I generally don't blog the emails I get. But I found this one exceptional. So I thought I'd make an exception just for this once. Give it a try. Hate Maths? So do I. Who don't? Try this one for size!

At the end of this message, you are asked a question.
Answer it immediately.
Don't stop and think about it. Just say the first thing that pops into your mind.
This is a fun 'test'... AND kind of spooky at the same time! Give it a try, then e-mail it around (including back to me) and you'll see how many people you know fall into the same percentage as you.. Be sure to put in the subject line if you are among the 98% or the 2%. You'll understand what that means after you finish taking the 'test..' Now - just follow the instructions as quickly as possible. Do not go to the next calculation before you have finished the previous one.. You do not ever need to write or remember the answers, just do it using your mind.. You'll be surprised..


Start: How much is: 15 + 6







21








3 + 56






59






89 + 2



















91







12 + 53



















65







75 + 26






















101





25 + 52



































77







63 + 32
























95







I know! Calculations are hard work, but it's nearly over..




Come on, one more! ....















123 + 5





















128












QUICK! THINK ABOUT A COLOR AND A TOOL!





















Scroll further to the bottom....
























A bit more...



























You just thought about a red hammer, didn't you?

If this is not your answer, you are among 2% of people who have a different, if not abnormal, mind.


98% of the folks would answer a   red hammer while doing this exercise.

If you do not believe this, pass it around and you'll see.

Be sure to put in the subject line if you are among the 98% or the 2% and send to everyone, including the person that sent it to you.

-- "When you are dissatisfied
And would like to go back to youth,
Think of Algebra."

14. FORGIVE ME DUDE IF YOU CAN.

I saw you lying there on the side of that lonely stretch road in the beam of my headlight, dude. There’s no denying that! I saw you were in trouble, maybe badly injured, maybe dying. Or were you already dead?

My foot came off the accelerator and hovered over the brakes for a moment… just for a single moment.

Indecision.

Hesitation.

It was a conflict between the heart and the brain, both vital. For a moment heart seemed to be in charge, because I felt the minivan slowing down as it lost momentum.

Just then the brain took over. I hit the accelerator hard and swung the wheel to give you a wide berth. While passing I saw the bicycle you should have been riding a moment before you were hit by that hit-and-run-driver, lying on its side. I also had a glimpse of the dark pool of liquid you were lying in, probably growing larger by the minute… and also I’m not very sure of this … that you were convulsing.

While I was speeding away my heart screamed. “Hey, stop and help him. How could you run away like this? This is not like you. How many people have you helped? Hey Dude, how would you like to swap places with him? How can you be so heartless? Where are all the values you believe in?”

The feeling of guilt was consuming me. 

The rear view mirror suddenly lit up. I squinted. Some headlights were behind me. I felt a bit better. Someone would stop. Or would they?

It didn’t help much. How could I run away like that? Your loved ones, maybe your wife and children, maybe your mother or sister could be waiting up for you right at this moment, waiting for you to turn up any moment. You may be the one who feed so many mouths, toiling all day. And tonight a few more hours of OT most probably, in a desperate attempt to make ends meet. The possibilities were endless.

Who is that woman who is in tears and screaming in my head, “You monster, how could you just pass him? He would still be here, if you just stopped. You could have called 119…”?

Then who’s this woman in all smiles and saying this? “Thanks to you sir, he is here with us. We have no words to thank you for what you did. We are forever in your debt…” tears of joy ran down her face, “Thank God for making you pass that road, when you did.”

I almost hit the brake to slow down and make a U-turn when two cars overtook me at lightning speed. I swerved instinctively. I’d just avoided another crash. I’m not the only runaway. What about them? I can’t scold them. All of us dudes behind the wheels that night on that particular stretch of road seemed to be thinking the same thoughts. Get out of here as fast as you can. 

As if  running away from a plague!

I realized the vehicle was in a skid on the wet tarmac.

A cop with handcuffs flashed in my mind like a motion picture. 

“You are under arrest for causing this accident and…”. 

I was protesting, “Officer I’m the one who stopped to help him.”

“You can say that at the courts.” The hand cuffs snapped shut.

This solemn judge was saying in this solemn tone, “There is no evidence to prove beyond reasonable doubt that…” I didn’t want to listen.

The dude whose head is swathed in bandages opened his eyes. His eyes scanned the crowd and then they rested on me. He then mumbled, “He is the one…”

Hey, it was you!!!

I was actually back home on holiday. I was supposed to return to the foreign land and to the foreign job once again in a few weeks. So much was riding on my job, not tires tonight as that tire manufacturer Michelin said. And so much that I can’t risk on an unknown stranger like you. My kid in college. The house that I built with sweat and blood, this minivan for which I compromised so much to own. Well my whole world would tumble down. Who would help me? Who would help my family while I would be doing my time in jail?

All the stories I had read in the newspapers about the fate of the Good Samaritans who stopped to help and were accused later of a crime they never committed, by the law and as well as by the angry mobs didn’t help at all.

All the stories of the unsuspecting people who stopped to help and were robbed, carjacked and  even murdered, didn't help either. 

I steered into the skid text book precision. Minivan was back in control though still in motion. I corrected the wheel to avoid hitting the tree and the vehicle responded immediately and straitened out . I changed my mind one more time. 

Forgive me dude if you can.

  

I stepped on the accelerator again, homeward bound, where safety and security lay. The faithful Toyota diesel engine purring reassuringly beneath me whisked me through the night. Away from an incident that would possibly have changed the lives of mine and my family.
 

My wife and kids, tired of the 150km journey through the night were still asleep, lulled by the hum of the engine, restrained by the seat belts in the reclined seats, unaware of an event that could have turned their lives upside down.

If given a choice would I do the same? Absolutely.

I would have done the same. 

How come this makes me feel better?

EPILOGUE: This is a common occurrence in our society. This could happen to anybody. No one dares to help another human being in trouble. Whose fault is it?

All the photographs are from the albums of henryblogwalker aka Dude, that is me.
Based on a true event.

13. I HIT MY FIRST TWO 1000s SIMULTANEOUSLY DUDES!!! Yeaaaah!!!

Hey Dudes,

Thank you very much. 

To all of you who visited my two blog sites from all over the world, made comments, and became members, I’m really grateful.

I started my English blog “Hey Dude” on 13^th of July, 2011 

and my Sinhala blog “මට හිතෙන හැටි” on 14^th July, 2011. 

Both were riding neck to neck and I think it’s a very memorable thing that both blogs hit 1000 mark exactly in 6 weeks on the same day at the same time. 

And the thousandth visitor was the same person who happened to sit down with a cup of tea to check out what’s new on my blogs. 

Isn’t it an awesome   coincidence.

These are the two comments she sent in.

 

12. " THAT'S A SICK JOKE, DUDE ! ! ! "

Thilaké is a bit senior dude than us. Anura (ACR) and I used to call him Carlos Santana because his long wavy hair reminded us of Santana. He used to wear his wavy hair which reached the small of his back in a pony tail when going out. And he stuffed the whole ponytail under his shirt when he was going somewhere important. This formed a soft hump on his back, which I used to thump on every time I meet him. I also used t pull his curls which stretched to double the length and sprang back when let go.

He was very clever at electronics though he is actually a cartographer by profession. Recently one guy was curious. 

“Thilaké, What exactly are you doing at the university?” 

“I’m a cartographer.” Thilaké replied.

“Carto..what?  Do you drive carts there in the campus, machan?”

“No machan, I’m just in charge of fixing horseshoes.”

Collecting old Volkswagen Beetles was one of his obsessions. There is a fleet of rusty Beetles all around his house at various stages of deterioration. He is in love with old German scrap metal alright.

His room was once our hangout. We loved to hear his tales, actually drama from real life. No matter how much we smoked and drank he never touched the stuff. He sat in a cloud of cigarette smoke and used to narrate his stories entertaining us as the host. All he did was dipping into our fries dish from time to time. We repeated our well worn but famous catchphrase, “Hey dude, don’t make meal out of our Fries. (Original: Don’t make a diet out of our bite)

We had a ritual we called punching the card. If I happened to pass his house any time of the night, no matter what hour it was I used to howl at the top of my voice, 

“Hey.. Thilaké ooo..” and fly by. 

And in return every time he passed my house in the night he flew by yelling,

“Hey Henry oooo!!”

I have woken up with a start so many times from deep sleep in the small hours, by his punching the card. Some days even my father asks with an amused grin, “Thilaké went by last night, didn’t he?” 

One of his overused jokes was yelling at me through the bus window. Every time when the bus stopped at his place he would yell to be heard by everybody,

“Hey Henry, just smile a while dude so that I can locate you” then the rest in for the other passengers in general, “Only this dude’s teeth are white. You can see him only when he’s smiling.” 

The passengers start enjoying because it’s new to them. The funny thing is he’s only fractionally lighter skinned than me. He… he…! (For non Sri Lankan reader: This typical joke has nothing to do with racism or color discrimination)

One night Thilaké had to go somewhere with another friend on that his brand new motorbike. They were in such a hurry none of them had helmets nor the documents for the bike. And Thilaké was wearing a sarong. (A sort of wrap around garment)

On their way back, with the headlight beam of an oncoming vehicle they had a glimpse of the cops waiting to catch traffic offenders. (Not the cops with rifles and traffic motorbikes.) Already one motor cyclist was stopped and being questioned. The dude throttled back and was about to surrender to the fate when Thilaké said,

“Dude you don’t stop. Just pretend you didn’t see them. I’ll see to the rest.”

Assured by Thilaké’s words dude whizzed by ignoring the cop’s signal to stop. A shrill whistle followed. Then  a voice bawled, “Halt!” A powerful flashlight was beamed to light up the rear end runaway bike and the riders. 

Back at Thilaké’s place the dude was grumbling.

“Now see dude. That was a stupid thing to have done. They would have noted my number plate. Now I’ll have to go to the courts. I should have stopped and talked my way out of it. All because of your stupid advice…I gotta be crazy to have listened to you...”

“Heh heh heh, don’t talk bullshit, man. What number plate? Number plate was in my sarong. Actually I’d lifted my sarong and covered the number plate tail light and everything.” He paused for a high five and continued. “But by any chance if you stopped, they’d surely have stripped me of the sarong, too.”

I warn you dudes who read this. “PLEASE DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME. THESE STUNTS ARE PERFORMED BY TRAINED PROFESSIONALS, BLAH BLAH BLAH.” And that is the Disclaimer.

Now to the main story. Another night Thilaké met a dude on the road who wanted to hitch a ride. (Now don’t ask why all his stories are night stories) Thilaké told him,

“Machan, I need to go to that funeral house over there, too. Won’t you get late?”

The guy said it was quite okay and got onto the back quite happily. Too happily for Thilaké’s liking which made Thilaké wonder. Ah hah! The road runs by the cemetery after a few kilometers. The dude is scared to go alone.

Near the funeral house Thilaké parked the bike and asked the guy to be with the bike till he pays a visit to the funeral. He agreed.

After about 15 minutes Thilaké returned and they started the journey. As they were nearing the cemetery the dude realized that Thilaké is unusually silent.

He inquired,

 “Hey, Thilaké,  why are you so silent, dude?”

Now they were passing the cemetery.

“Haah Haah Haah,” 

Thilaké made an eerie laugh. Dude froze. Cold sweat broke out of his forehead. What he heard next made his blood curdle.

“...What makes you think I’m Thilaké?”

 
Dude nearly wet his pants. The still functioning part of his brain told him the real Thilaké could still be at the funeral house. And this creature also came from the direction of the funeral house and he remembered he actually hadn’t even seen his face properly in the dark. Or had he?

“Oh please Thilaké, please. Stop it. You are kidding, aren’t you? That’s a sick joke, dude.”

The guy was almost in tears, begging. Thilaké told us later he actually felt sorry for him and gave up the sick joke to the utmost relief of the dude.

The Sinhala version of this post is blogged simultaneously at “මට හිතෙන හැටි”

11. I updated "Dudes, Ever Watched A 7D Movie? Not 3D! Wow!!"

Hi, I updated the post  "Ever Watched A 7D Movie? Not 3D!  Wow!!" with these  four new photos

The Other 7D Movies Displayed Above the Door in the Lobby.

This Is the Ticket for the 7D Movie we watched "The Lost Island"

In the Lobby. You can see an employee watching the audience on the TV screen.

The Name Of the Movie We Watched "затерянный остров"  . It means  Lost Island  .

.