Meanwhile…

So travelling is not a strategy well designed to further toilet training even for twins. Or so I would have thought. Apparently, the twins aren’t too concerned. Only a week ago, I was losing hair and appetite in equal proportions, mopping up behind them. They were still refusing to squat, and were wetting themselves and the bathroom floor in a quite disgusting fashion. It was - hard though it is to believe - only last Wednesday or so, that I decided to go out and buy them a toilet seat, since they showed no interest in the potty and no ability to bend at the knees. I was sure that Mrini would not relish the idea of being perched way up there with her feet dangling off the ground, but again - she surprised me. In a couple of days, they had completely taken to the toilet seat, and were demanding to be placed on it even when there was no pressing need. Plus, they impressed me by even waiting for each other to finish and be taken down before getting on it and letting go. I can’t say there weren’t any accidents, but I’d have to say they were few, and the overall mess was waaaaaaaay less.

Then we went to Delhi and subjected the twins to completely screwed up routines, new places, new faces, new clothes, new food, and rather terrible climate. But - we took the toilet seat along (!!! - ewwwww - what has life come to???), and somehow that must have been quite comforting to them, because they decided that it was their favourite place and spent a lot of time on it.

So, now I can say that they are largely home-toilet-trained. This still doesn’t extend to outings, not even to modest outings to malls or the park… but at home, they are relatively safe, clean and dry. Hallelujah!

To Hell With Common Sense

Amit must be a world champion at emotional blackmail. Against my better judgement, he persuaded me on Thursday afternoon to accompany him to Delhi on Thursday night (well, technically Friday early morning) and then on to Leh the following day. With the twins, of course. Insane? Absolutely. That’s why I had resolutely stuck to my guns and refused to consider carting the kids off to an altitude of almost 11000 feet, where acclimatisation takes 48 hours, there’s no natural greenery so oxygen is in short supply, flights out are always sold out and descent by road takes two days and involves crossing altitudes upto 17000 feet.

So I had unilaterally decided that taking two under-twos to Leh was a bad idea and nothing Amit said could convince me otherwise… Until Thursday, when he gave me several of those looks and piled on the pleading and persuasion and I suddenly agreed.

There followed an evening of frenetic activity as we made additional flight and hotel bookings, and packed 50 kg (!) of clothing and camera stuff into 4 rugged backpacks. It was almost 12.30 before we were done, and with the new airport being so far away, we planned to leave at 3.00 for a flight at 5.30, so of course we didn’t get any sleep. What’s worse, when we carted the kids to the taxi at 3.00 a.m., they woke up and didn’t sleep again until after lunch!

The fun really started the next morning (if you can consider the dead of night to be morning) when we again awoke at 2.30 to catch our flight to Leh. It was pouring cats and dogs as we loaded everything and everybody into a rattletrap Ambassador taxi and set off for the airport. I sat with the kids while Amit and his dad handled the check-in. Then, from 4 a.m straight through till 10.30, we made the airport lounge our home as we waited for the flight to take off. It was clear from about 7, or for the hopelessly optimistic about 8, that our flight would be cancelled because no flights can land or take-off at Leh late morning onwards. But, we had to wait for the airline to take the final decision to cancel the flight and they decided to keep us waiting a few extra hours.

Meanwhile, the kids kept us on our toes. The ran from end to end of the huge lounge, watched the aeroplanes through locked doors and grimy windows, flirted with other passengers, ate cake and sandwich for breakfast, submitted to having their diapers changed in the ladies’ bathroom, sprawled on the dusty floor and made swimming actions with their arms and legs, held hands and played Ringa-ringa Roses, and generally enjoyed themselves thoroughly and provided free entertainment to all.

It was 11.30 before we got home and by then Tara was fast asleep and the rest of us were inclined to follow suit in short order. It was a really tiring and hardly a very successful start to a grand holiday. But you can never keep an avid traveller family down for long.