It is the summer break for the kids and three of my nephews, aged 9, 10,and 12, dropped in to spend a week with us. Both of our own kids (!) were out and that made the age composition of the gathering a bit wonky. One 82, one 73, one 53, one 50 and of course the three arrivals!! We were smug with the confidence, having raised two of our own, that handling these three would be child's play - at least that's what we thought. While a full blown book would be in order, just a couple of instances would suffice to prove that we have miles to go before we can be confident enough to feel so smug:
Scene 1: As I came upstairs to our room, I saw the young mister 9 holding his towel around his waist, standing 'statue' in front of the bath. "What happened? Are you not going in for a bath?" I asked. Without turning his head, he raised his little finger and slowly pushed it through the gap between the wall and the door. "Cockroach" he said softly. My next thirty minutes were spent chasing a rogue cockroach through ten thousand crevasses and hill sides (at least that is how the cockroach behaved)....Mind you, mister 9 had also told me in his soft voice not to kill the roach. So I had to chase, catch and export him across our garden before mister nine consented to pour two mugs of water on himself. When I entered the house after successfully exporting the roach, and panting and perspiring in the burning heat of Chennai, the 50, 73 and 82 had the laugh of their lives !!!
Scene 2: Having somehow managed them at home through the day [courtesy the three musketeers who happily chomped their their way through packets of potato chips, I had watched without much choice of course, Tom & Jerry, Gods Must Be Crazy, Haunting and Conjuring - all in a row!!!], we decided to take them out to a bakery joint. The three were out of the car and into the joint even before my wife and I locked the car and entered. Mister 9 had also decided that all three of them will have only masala potato fingers - just because that was the brightest ad displayed at the entrance. The attendant helpfully told me that the potato fingers would be freshly made on order. So order we did, and waited. At the risk of a commodore's stare from my better half, I asked mister 9 "there are hundreds of items here, should you have ordered the potato fingers that would take time?" The youngster simply told me "that is what we want to eat". Fine, okay, let us wait. A round of pastries, patties and cold coffee later, when the potato fingers finally arrived, the young mister 9 looked up and said "see, it was worth the wait, don't you agree?" When did I say I had a choice to disagree?
Scene 3: It had to happen. Mister 12 took mister 10 with the promise of teaching him how use a cycle. The mercury was helpfully at 42 C and even the crows and cows (all humans too except the mentioned) hid themselves wherever shade was to be found. My wife was rustling up lunch and suddenly there was a shriek. Mister 9 ran out and ran in to announce that mister 10 had managed to fall from the cycle. The skin around one knee was neatly peeled and down on the foot, there were two marble sized nicks. I picked up the wailing mister 10, put him into my car and rushed him to our doctor who was, fortunately, only few hundred meters away. As the nicks and cuts were dressed, the shrieks could be heard for miles away. I was only thanking the stars that there was no lady admitted for delivery in the clinic. Had one been, she would delivered without even a sigh!!! The wounded and 'dressed' mister 10 came home to a welcome reserved only for war heroes, from mister 9 & 12!! Having done his dressing at home twice thereafter, my wife tells me that I have managed to learn to shriek well myself....
Oh, to say that bringing them up is easy...well, not me,,,I never said....in case you think it is, I can only wish you good luck. But then, there is something I must say: parenting is the most beautiful experience of life. There are no perfect parents. There can, however, be unfortunate parents - those who never realise that loving their children is the key to good parenting. Accepting their children for what they are, loving them, standing by them, supporting them, teaching them to enjoy small moments and small things....well these are the rewards. Elsewhere in my blog, I have quoted a poem by Khalil Gibran. I strongly recommend that we must reflect upon the meaning of that poem.
Scene 1: As I came upstairs to our room, I saw the young mister 9 holding his towel around his waist, standing 'statue' in front of the bath. "What happened? Are you not going in for a bath?" I asked. Without turning his head, he raised his little finger and slowly pushed it through the gap between the wall and the door. "Cockroach" he said softly. My next thirty minutes were spent chasing a rogue cockroach through ten thousand crevasses and hill sides (at least that is how the cockroach behaved)....Mind you, mister 9 had also told me in his soft voice not to kill the roach. So I had to chase, catch and export him across our garden before mister nine consented to pour two mugs of water on himself. When I entered the house after successfully exporting the roach, and panting and perspiring in the burning heat of Chennai, the 50, 73 and 82 had the laugh of their lives !!!
Scene 2: Having somehow managed them at home through the day [courtesy the three musketeers who happily chomped their their way through packets of potato chips, I had watched without much choice of course, Tom & Jerry, Gods Must Be Crazy, Haunting and Conjuring - all in a row!!!], we decided to take them out to a bakery joint. The three were out of the car and into the joint even before my wife and I locked the car and entered. Mister 9 had also decided that all three of them will have only masala potato fingers - just because that was the brightest ad displayed at the entrance. The attendant helpfully told me that the potato fingers would be freshly made on order. So order we did, and waited. At the risk of a commodore's stare from my better half, I asked mister 9 "there are hundreds of items here, should you have ordered the potato fingers that would take time?" The youngster simply told me "that is what we want to eat". Fine, okay, let us wait. A round of pastries, patties and cold coffee later, when the potato fingers finally arrived, the young mister 9 looked up and said "see, it was worth the wait, don't you agree?" When did I say I had a choice to disagree?
Scene 3: It had to happen. Mister 12 took mister 10 with the promise of teaching him how use a cycle. The mercury was helpfully at 42 C and even the crows and cows (all humans too except the mentioned) hid themselves wherever shade was to be found. My wife was rustling up lunch and suddenly there was a shriek. Mister 9 ran out and ran in to announce that mister 10 had managed to fall from the cycle. The skin around one knee was neatly peeled and down on the foot, there were two marble sized nicks. I picked up the wailing mister 10, put him into my car and rushed him to our doctor who was, fortunately, only few hundred meters away. As the nicks and cuts were dressed, the shrieks could be heard for miles away. I was only thanking the stars that there was no lady admitted for delivery in the clinic. Had one been, she would delivered without even a sigh!!! The wounded and 'dressed' mister 10 came home to a welcome reserved only for war heroes, from mister 9 & 12!! Having done his dressing at home twice thereafter, my wife tells me that I have managed to learn to shriek well myself....
Oh, to say that bringing them up is easy...well, not me,,,I never said....in case you think it is, I can only wish you good luck. But then, there is something I must say: parenting is the most beautiful experience of life. There are no perfect parents. There can, however, be unfortunate parents - those who never realise that loving their children is the key to good parenting. Accepting their children for what they are, loving them, standing by them, supporting them, teaching them to enjoy small moments and small things....well these are the rewards. Elsewhere in my blog, I have quoted a poem by Khalil Gibran. I strongly recommend that we must reflect upon the meaning of that poem.
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