It’s the Friday, the thirteenth, but the day began well for
me with my post on parenting getting posted on the webpage for ParentEdge magazine.
I proudly show the e-mail to my husband and he happily congratulates me. Soon after
he leaves, it is time for me to give our one year old a bath. Like every day, he
is playing a game with me while I try to massage him with oil. Every time I
take my hands off him to get some oil, he crawls away from the mat and laughs
when I struggle to reach out and catch him. The only difference today was that he
seemed to a little more enthusiastic than usual. He giggled at me while rolling
on the bed as I tried to grab his tiny little foot.
With tiny pink lips and curly locks of hair that hang on his face, he looks like a
doll to me. He looks so cute that people often mistake him for a girl! It is such a joy watching him that sometimes I don’t want him to grow up. Once
more, as I sit on one side of the bed and let go off him to pour some oil on my
palm, he crawls away, smiling. He turns to see me and sneaks a mischievous look at me, waiting for
me to reach out. I notice that he has reached the other extreme of the bed, I
call out his name but before I can grab him, he rolls over, bumps his head on
the side table before hitting the floor with a thud. He begins to cry in pain
as I rush over and pick him up.
As I try to console him I feel like a failure as a mother. A mother
who failed to protect her little one from getting hurt. I hold him close and as
he calms down I find an ugly blue bump emerging on his forehead and a small cut
at the outer corner of his right eye. Once he stops crying I take him to his bathtub and to my
surprise he happily begins to play in the warm water, while a droplet of blood on
the side of his eyelid mocks at me, leaving me feeling terrible. It is indeed
amazing how soon kids get back to normal and forget their pain. I wish we
adults could do the same. I begin to wonder if it is indeed something to do
with Friday the 13th.
I call up my husband to share my anguish. I narrate the
whole incident and tell him how miserable I am feeling about the cut. Knowing
that the skin near our eyelids is delicate, I fear that the mark would probably
stay for a lifetime. He responds by telling me that it is our ‘family trademark’
since the three of us (My husband, elder son and I) already have it and our
younger son just got his. I had not even thought about it like that and I realize it only when he says it. I feel a small hint of a smile emerging on
my lips and fall in love with him a little more for diffusing my tension in the
most unusual way possible. Interestingly, my mother too says the same thing
when I tell her about it.
Later in the day I watch my brave little soldier play, smile
and walk around the house as usual and I feel relieved. While he seems to have
moved on and forgotten about the injury, I seemed to be hurting for much longer
than him. I wish we adults too could put our hurt and pain (physical and
emotional) behind us with the same ease as little children and move ahead in
life with a carefree smile. We have so much to learn from them, to love
wholeheartedly, forgive easily, make friends effortlessly, laugh freely, be surprised by small things, find joy in everything (except eating),
jump without the fear of falling, forget pain quickly and focus all our
energy in having fun all the time!
(Printed in the March Issue of the White Print Magazine)
(Printed in the March Issue of the White Print Magazine)
