Her seventh tantrum. And her eighth.

As Kym approaches puberty, she passes through a phase called adrenarche, which has its onset at around Kymaia’s current age of 8. In this stage, the child shows irrational anger or becomes tearful for no reason whatsoever, and there seldom is anything you, or even the child, can do to avoid it.

Now, those of you who have been reading my posts and updates about little Baby bear will know that all the ‘dire warnings’ (at the announcement of her birth) by friends, family, and well-wishers about endless sleepless nights and constant fatigue from parenting, the daily irritability and crankiness, the unnecessary crying & irrational demands, as well as the debilitating emotional, financial, and physical costs of raising a child have come to nought, with infant Kymaia keeping us awake for but one night when she was extremely unwell (yes, just one night) and needed me to walk around carrying her and softly singing ‘Dhadkan zaraa ruk gayi hai’ to her till dawn, and the child Kymaia having thrown exactly six tantrums (the last one was over a year ago on 20 March 2022, when I called her, for the last time it turned out, a lallu) as of yesterday morning.

So, all of that seems to be coming to an end with the advent of what is clearly adrenarche as the first milestone (?) on Baby bear’s inevitable (and surely, desirable in her evolution towards an adult) march to puberty. As previously noted, this is something that is unavoidable, as are its effects on Kym’s mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical well-being. What then, is the defence against its more extreme fallouts? Tashuji and I are both of the opinion that preparation and understanding is key, for all concerned, the parents, relatives, friends, and loved ones, as well as the child in question. In that regard, we have started to speak and write to her (one such letter was published here) and parallely, begun intimating the family and those of our friends who are close to Kym about what to expect and how they could possibly react to minimise possible long-term damage to her and, not to put too fine a point on it, to their relationship with her.

A WhatsApp message Tashuji wrote on our behalf to our family & friends. We also sent them some informative links with this.

However, regardless of how well prepared you are, when the shit hits the fan…no, wait. Actually, let me quote the great German military strategist and the Chief of German Military Staff under Chancellor Bismark, Helmuth von Moltke, the Elder, who is said to have noted that “No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.” Indeed, ‘Iron’ Mike Tyson put it even more succinctly when he quipped that “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.” Well, guess what: Yesterday morning, we got punched in the mouth. And then, this morning, we got punched again.

On Tuesday, Kym refused to eat her breakfast after her vigorous warmup & stretching, a rather pacy 5km (in which she came close to her PB), and a prolonged swimming lesson that went on and on until we had to force her out of the water. Given how tired she was, I thought that as an athlete, she needed her protein and carbs, her nutrition being paramount, coming in only after her rest. However, we were adamant. We would not eat. Why? Because Baba bear asked us to ‘eat properly’ since we had done intensive training that morning. Nothing, and no one, would move the kid. So, Baba and Mamma bear continued to eat their breakfast in silence, ignoring Baby bear just sitting there sulking. This made her even angrier. Paper napkins were torn and strewed all over, the serviettes were thrown on the floor, the bowl of cornflakes was emptied on the table, and after all of that, big, fat tears started to flow from our big, beautiful eyes.

Tashuji and I both asked her what we could do to get her to eat a bit, because clearly the lack of food was a contributing factor to the irritability (‘hangry’, do they call it that?). That backfired splendidly and made the situation worse, if that was possible. More crying and throwing followed. I was told to ‘go away’. So, off I went to sit in the lobby to allow the mother-daughter duo to sort matters out and calm things down. Apparently, that was a mistake. As I got up from my chair to leave, an even louder wail was generated, and I was accused of not loving her enough and a declaration of ‘I don’t love you too, Baba bear’ followed. (Side note: I think it is endearing that she calls me ‘Baba bear’ even when she is telling me she does not love me!). I told her that be that as it may, I still loved her, and I shall be outside should she need me. And so, I headed out. In about five minutes, my child’s mother popped into the lobby to ask me to reintroduce myself in the proceedings because now she wanted me to be at the table. Fine. I went in. And so it passed that a very sulky 8yo ate her breakfast, and we somehow managed to get home. This was, as you are aware, yesterday morning.

This performance was repeated today at the training course, when the kid told her mother that she did not want to run or want me around and then, when I tried to make myself scarce, started crying even louder and claimed I was leaving her because I did not love her and that if I loved her, I’d run with her.

The only difference between these two episodes of last morning as compared to this one was that while yesterday, there were perhaps two or three occupied tables at the club, and apart from the skeletal staff of maybe four bearers, there were only a few other guests that were witness to that tantrum, this a.m’s performance had a full house, with over a hundred walkers, joggers, and sundry laughter-club uncles & aunties giving duty as spectators. As those of you who read about Kym regularly already know, she’s quite the celebrity at the training course and race course, with almost everyone recognising her and applauding her every time she passes them. And now, a new facet was added to her ‘personality’, much to the embarrassment of both her parents, who were simply standing there wringing their hands and wondering what they’d say if anyone asked them why they were making ‘Racer Girl’ (as she is known there) cry. A few indeed did enquire. And all we could do was to shrug our shoulders and hope somehow the universal parenting signal of ‘this isn’t as bad as it looks; kindly forgive us for not being able to resolve this.’ was understood.

I, in true Indian misogynist father style, tried to joke about it and, turning to my ex-wife, asked her, ‘Why do you think all the women I know don’t want me when I am around, and accuse me of not being around when I literally respect their wishes and vamoose from the scene?’ to which her simple one-line reply was, ‘You do realise there’s a reason we are divorced, right?’ Ouch!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we decided to take her out to lunch and talk to her about this. Tashuji had a pending lunch she had promised us long ago if a contract of her came through. Today was as good a day as any other. So, off the Bear family went to Toscana at Amanora Mall in Hadapsar, where we had a table booked for 1300h IST, and had a really long, really leisurely, really luxurious, and really productive (in terms of discussion with Kymaia) lunch that consisted of a Chardonnay (Sula), a Chenin Blanc (Virgin), a tall glass of Verde gin & tonic, a ginger ale (for Baby bear), accompanied by Calamari Fritto Misto, Goat’s Cheese Salad, Parma Ham Pizza (with figs), and a reimagined Mac-And-Cheese (with spaghetti instead of macaroni), topped by Ice-cream Strawberry Soda, Tiramisu, and a shot of espresso served just right.

The conversation was about growing up and tackling the emotions that come with it like a grown-up. We discussed how Baby bear is as confused about why she is angry or why she feels like crying or saying hurtful things to me and her Mamma bear. We discussed how our nonchalant attitude is not making it any better. We discussed ways in which she can figure out when a tantrum is about to come and take steps to mitigate the damage it will likely cause. And we discussed what we can do when it inevitably arrives and causes the havoc we have seen it cause.

I will not bore you with the details, nor do I think it right to tell you what our child told us privately about her fears and hopes. But suffice to say that it was a free and frank exchange of ideas and a lot was said and promised, and hopefully, we should see positive results as far as the peace (and I dare say, sanity) within the Bear family is concerned, as well as give little Baby bear enough opportunity and outlet to let off steam whenever she thinks she can’t hold it in any more.

We then left the restaurant and went to Decathlon in the basement to buy Baby bear a swimsuit, but ended up with two crop tops, two tennis skirts, and a hula hoop (don’t ask) apart from the aforementioned swimsuit. The funny (to us stupid adults) part in all this was how quickly the ‘serious’ conversation and the gravity (and gravitas) of everything that was discussed just a few minutes ago was registered, filed, compartmentalised, and stored away, and the 8yo mind shifted gears from ‘important-and-sombre-discussion-with-parents-about-growing-up’ to ‘running-around-a-random-shop-with-a-hula-hoop-being-chased-by-Baba-and-Mamma-bear-trying-to-take-it-away-from-us-while-laughing-hysterically-and-repeatedly-demanding-that-the-stupid-hoop-be-bought-and-added-to-the-four-other-hoops-we-have-at-home-already’.

Ah, sometimes I wish I was 8 again. And then, I remember my puberty. Thanks, but no thanks.

The three bears do lunch!