Niranjana, Melissa and Andy

"Hide from Mommy" is a game Niranjana and Andy play at bedtime. I'll be brushing my teeth and will hear the call to hide, followed by giggles and the rustling of sheets.

"Where did Daddy and Niranjana go?" I wonder aloud. "Oh look, there are two big lumps in the bed. I'll have to flatten those so I can go to sleep."

So I take the pillow and start gently whacking the lumps. The small one squirms. "Oh no, it's a monster! Or a dinosaur! I better tickle it."

The tickling results in more giggles. "Hey, that sounds like Niranjana," I say.

Those of you who have followed (or caught up on) our little domestic story probably realize that Niranjana didn't love her daddy too much early on. In fact, from about our fourth day in India back in September 2007 through, oh, that Christmas, she pretty much clung to Melissa for all she was worth.

Earning Niranjana's trust and love was long, arduous - and worth it. Frankly, it took less time than it did with Melissa (I asked her out for three years before she relented). Today, we're golden, and I relish every moment of being her daddy.

Niranjana has a favorite number. It's 18. Best we can figure, it's based on her birthday. She's counting well past 18 now, up to around 49 with limited assistance, but 18 seems to be her No. 1.

If she needs a random quantity for a story, it'll usually be 18. It's also great for food purposes, like how many edamame (soybeans) she needs to eat before she can be excused (we're pretty sure she ate more than 18, once she got going). Here are some other examples.

We went to an Indian Dance Recital on Sunday. Niranjana wore one of her "sparkle dresses" that Ammaji bought in north India. Aunt Rain and Uncle Alan joined us there. All us girls wore bindis, although Niranajana removed her bindi and bangles partway through.

We prepped our girl that there would be a lot of people who looked like her, and that everyone there would know how to say her name correctly. There were nearly 200 people plus Indian food for $2/plate at intermission.

We've been practicing our address, phone number, etc. with Niranjana. She pretty well has it down, so this morning we moved on to how to describe our house.

"And what do we grow in our back yard?" I asked, expecting grapes or roses.

"Weeds," Niranjana said.

Tonight my husband said he is tired of chemo. Tired of the toxic chemicals, tired of the smell, tired of being tired. This brave man, a night owl by habit and profession, is in bed asleep and it's only 8:45 p.m.

What can a wife say, besides "I love you and I'm proud of you"? He's been battling this cancer — lymphoma — full-throttle since the preliminary diagnosis on Oct. 31. And he's winning. Five chemos down, one more to go on March 31, then a month off for the chemo to do its thing, followed by a CT scan. Then we'll know if he needs chemos 7 and 8, or if he's done.

Niranjana's vocabulary and imagination really took off last fall. The difference between August and October was especially notable. Credit goes to a combination of Montessori education and cinematic pop culture. And maybe a few stories from books, we hope.

Our girl regularly will start a new conversation in the car or at bedtime with "I have a story." Here is the one she told last night. I wrote it down as she told it and confirmed the details with her.

I always find it amusing how certain words or phrases take on new meaning and enter our vernacular. Sometimes this happens within a society as a whole or perhaps a smaller community - or even a household.

Take the phrase: "Deh-deh-deh-deh-deh!"

Every time I looked up from washing dishes, the ribbon that Niranjana was absentmindedly playing with was in her mouth ... or her nose. Having already dealt with one afternoon meltdown, I simply didn't have the energy to be the enforcer on something that wasn't really hurting her. It's just something she knows that she's not supposed to do.

"Niranjana, that doesn't go in your mouth. How many times do I need to tell you?" I asked, in an exasperated mom voice.

"Four," she replied with the hint of a twinkle in her eye.

"And how many times have I told you?" I queried, now mildly amused.

Preschool finished up a unit on presidents this week, complete with Warhol-like crayon drawings of John F. Kennedy and George Washington. But the best part was the list on the board of each child's answer to "If I were president, I would ...."

- Niranjana: Give presents. (yep, that's our material girl)

- Several children had "give free money" or "give money to poor people."

- C. said "give people cars that don't speed."

- Miss B. wanted "free college tuition."

- I. would "bake everyone cupcakes."