...and then

Monday, 15 August 2011

Of imagination and unnecessary worry

I have absolutely no cause to complain about anything in life. Honestly. Maybe just an untoned, post-baby stomach but otherwise, I really am a lucky girl.

Here’s why. This morning, my three-year-old comes running to me, in post brother’s-birthday-party bliss, and kisses my stomach – yes, the same aforementioned untoned cause of complaint – asking if she could have some kisses. Really?! If that wasn’t endearing enough, when I took her out of the bath, wrapped in a towel, I didn’t include hear head in the wrapping this time as I usually do; it was just shoulders and below, before I carried her out. She promptly demands, “Amma, make me a baby, not a shwarma.” It struck me then that this child has a love for metaphors.

She’s a practical sort, my three year old is. So for a while I worried about her not having an imagination – a vivid one – as she grew up. Because, you know, imaginative people just never actually get bored. There’s always something to entertain them. I am torn between letting her nature flowering without pigeonholing her and teaching her some sort of structure of thought, because I believe having no boundaries in your head can be a bit counter-productive, if not self-destructive. So anyway, a few days ago my fears were laid to rest when she asked, “Where do the ropes in the shower come from, amma,” I wasn’t sure if she meant the water, only because I constantly second guess the bright things the kids say. Expressly because they are my kids. I’d hate more than anything to be the parent, bathed in the beatific light having “awesome” kids, who kills – slowly, joyfully and painfully – other people with the rusted edge of the thing called bragging rights. But I digress.

I wasn’t sure she meant the water because I am pretty sure she’s never been read anything that has likened water to ropes. Then she said it again. “Amma, why is the rope from the kettle so thick,” she asked. After my initial delight (and surprise) that this child was using metaphors and similes to describe things, and so naturally, my doubts about her imagination went slack. She still didn’t have imaginary friends but at least she was learning the ropes of alternate description. Then, yesterday, as I was putting up balloons and buntings (I love that word) for her brother’s second birthday, she stole a spool of thread from me. As all parents will know, extended minutes of silence usually mean trouble. Having realised the afternoon was unusually quiet except for the song in my head I went looking for her. There she was, under the really tiny dining table I have, unspooling the white thread she had taken, all over the floor.

“What are you doing, kanmani,” I ask. “Flowing a river, Amma,” she said.

I wait for the day she will fly. 

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Anonymous Anjali Ramachandran said...

I really wish I could be there to see them grow up. Lots of hugs and kisses to you all.

12:57 pm  
Blogger thedevilsadvocate said...

I'm new to the world of blogging and yours is one of the first blogs I've stumbled across. I'm glad I did that, because this article is beautiful!

5:45 am  
Blogger Shailaja said...

Ahh. She's a little poet. Beautiful.

8:56 am  
Blogger Tamanna said...

Ah, quiet the poetess :)

9:40 am  
Blogger Unknown said...

God bless. :)

1:24 pm  
Blogger Ghadeer said...

Aww...God Bless!
Don't worry about anything...she's perfect the way she was gifted to you

3:41 pm  
Blogger Sue said...

It's the kind of thing that makes you look forward to the years ahead, doesn't it? God bless her.

3:37 pm  
Blogger Girl Who Believed In Angels said...

God bless...

3:15 pm  
Blogger Natasha said...

I know it can be pain to "to be the parent, bathed in the beatific light having “awesome” kids...." but something tells me you'd survive it!

Some kids are little poets, some little artists, I even know a mini-psychotherapist.
That's an awesome little story there and it totally made my day. I am left with an image of my own little inner kid, flowing a river all over the floor. Under a table, near one leg.

11:03 am  
Anonymous S said...

Your child sounds really lovely, enjoy the kids. really, one day they will be gone before you know it

11:19 am  
Blogger Naveen said...

innocence beatified..

2:42 pm  

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