Walking Wisdom_Three Generations, Two Dogs, and the Search for a Happy Life by Gotham Chopra & Deepak Chopra

Author:Gotham Chopra & Deepak Chopra [Chopra, Gotham & Chopra, Deepak]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Spirituality, Self Help
ISBN: 9781401396268
Google: 1WmZAAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B0043EV5B2
Goodreads: 9717302
Publisher: Hyperion
Published: 2010-10-05T00:00:00+00:00

BY THE MIDDLE of the summer, several weeks before his birthday, Krishu was gripped by the terrible twos. His precociousness and early finesse with languages—English, Spanish, and Mandarin—enabled him to express himself in ways that reflected just how fast his mind was developing.

“Quiero huevos con queso,” he chirped when we rolled into the kitchen between showings of Kung Fu Panda.

“Huàn niaòbù?” he’d announce, alerting us in Mandarin that his diaper needed to be changed.

But it was one early morning when he awoke between Candice and me that he made his most dramatic announcement: “I want to fight Cleo.” We stared at him, unsure how to react. He said it with such clarity and precision, as if it was a decision he’d spent considerable time pondering and debating internally. We didn’t know whether to be humored by it or troubled.

In fact, it was evidence of a growing trend we’d started to see over the last few months. Often, I’d find him gathering whatever was within reach—pillows on the couch, books off the shelves, food from the tables—and firing it directly at Cleo’s head. Still somewhat spry and agile, not to mention wise to Krishu’s increasingly shady ways, Cleo knew how to dodge her opponent’s advances. She’d leap from her perch wherever she was and scurry away to the safe zones she’d located around the house: beneath the kitchen table, behind the couch, up atop the elevated bed in the guest room. Still, Krishu was relentless. When Cleo’s guard was down, he’d commandeer one of his toys—a dump truck, its trailer full of oversized LEGO pieces—and chase her around the room. Occasionally he’d clip her leg with the plastic truck, or if he was strategic enough, corner her and then commence the heavy artillery fire with the oversized LEGOs.

The most elaborate and disturbing scheme he’d concocted was, ironically, short of physical aggression. Krishu would squeeze himself behind the couch, running his hands through the significant dust balls that had settled there, and place them squarely in Cleo’s water bowl, presumably to contaminate it and render it undrinkable. It was truly diabolical in nature, evidence of an advanced level of calculated deviousness in the league of supervillains like Lex Luthor or the Joker. I didn’t know whether to be impressed or afraid.

Whatever the case, Krishu’s declaration that he wanted to fight Cleo couldn’t simply be shrugged off. It wasn’t just something he’d figured out how to say; he was willing to back it up in action. And it was aligned with other milestones too. Recently he’d become very defiant, refusing to eat at mealtimes, demanding television and/or candy, usually accompanied with the screaming qualifier “now,” just to ensure we were aware of how pressing his desires were. The teachers at his preschool where he went once a week for “structured play” (whatever that was) reassured us that Krishu was simply “feeling out his boundaries.” They warned us that the process could last a while, until Krishu got a good grasp of exactly how far he could push us as parents or test out which techniques worked on us.

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