Stinky Pink

Maya, as suspected, does indeed have a urinary infection. Poor thing, she'll seem absolutely fine and then suddenly her face screws up in pain and she says how much it hurts. However, she had a urine test a couple of days ago and another one today and apparently it's better than it was so we're going to stay off the antibiotics (and mangoes) for another few days and see how she gets on. She's a tough little cookie and is being really brave. I definitely spoke too soon about none of us being ill. In the past couple of months, I've dreaded hearing the words 'My tummy hurts' because it's just so, so common to get bouts diarrhoea out here. Thankfully, to date, the only time Maya's said her tummy hurts has been as a result of too much chocolate or because she's had one of her numerous trips and falls and winded herself.

And so....the weekend. I love the weekends here. The promise of two whole days for the four of us to spend together visiting temples, gardens, markets, museums, art galleries, going out for lunch, shopping, visiting interesting places, experiencing Bangalore in its many guises....Okay,okay, so we never get round to doing the vast majority of these things because one of the girls eventually falls asleep just as the other is waking up, or it's just too darned hot, or we have a child whose whining resembles one of those mosquitos that sing and sing in your ear and you just can't make it stop (no names mentioned) ...But hey, the intention is there.

The plan for this morning was to buy a dress for Maya's upcoming birthday, do some food shopping and then go out for lunch. We managed the first two at least. Two out of three - not bad. This is what happened when we went to Fab India, the wonderful clothes shop (if you ever visit India (they're all over), seek it out - immediately!) to buy Maya's birthday dress.

I saw a beautiful white dress with big blue spots on it which she would have looked gorgeous in. I hold it up.

'Do you like this one, Maya?'

Maya screws up her nose. 'No.'

'No. Why not?'

No answer. I chose another lovely blue and green one patterned with flowers. 'How about this?'

'No. Can't like it.'

'Why Maya? Why?'

'I want pink dress.'

Oh. Pink. Errrggghhh. Please, can somebody tell me why girls are hard-wired to the colour pink? Why, why, why? I have spent the past three years actively discouraging her to wear pink, partly because it irritates me that the majority of clothes sold for girls are in this colour and also because there are other colours that suit her far better.

There is one rather insipid pink dress age 3-4 which I pull out and say in my best 'oh, I don't think this one is very nice' voice 'Here's a pink dress.'

'Yes!' She says joyfully. 'Pink! Pink! Like this one.'

I hesitate. 'Are you sure Maya? How about this one?' I hold the flowery one up. 'No!' she shouts. 'Or this one?' I try hopefully with the spotty one, but she's gone. Not interested. I'm maliciously thinking at this stage that I might just buy the spotty one anyway- after all, who's paying for it? But suddenly I remember a conversation I had with my mother a little over three years ago which brings up certain parallels. I was walking across Parker's Peace in Cambridge with her, heavily pregnant and telling her about the two names that Andy and I were thinking of to call our child if it was a girl.

'We're down to Maya and Rose, but pretty sure we'll go for Maya.'

'Oooh! Rose is nice.'

'Yes, it is isn't it. But actually, we're thinking we'll go for Maya.'

Long pause. 'Rose is lovely.'

'So is Maya.'

Another pause. 'But Rose is such a pretty name.'

And so it went on. Fast forward back to Fab India three years later. I sigh and buy the pink dress. To be fair, my mother got used to the name Maya. By the same token, I'm sure Maya will look lovely in the dress too. (And it's not as though it has to stay on her for her entire life either!)