Sweeter His Thoughts

I once asked BigGeek when his first crush was. He had thought for a moment and said “Second Standard.” Ok, a little early than most. I, obviously needed to react in a grown-up, responsible fashion. “That’s sick.” I said smugly, my eyes as narrow as slits, looking down at him. Tsk-tsking too for the effect. BigGeek was clearly displeased with my less than bubbly reaction and calmly spent the next fifteen minutes in a ferocious vendetta by telling me certain things about people I know too well, ensuring for life, my inability to see the said folks in the eye.

Pride goes before a fall, they say, and my hubris has, a few dozen moons later, come to bite me in the south. Like father, like son. There is no cure for genes, you know? Yes, Chip with all of his three and half years behind him fancies someone at school. My own two dim eyes have witnessed it. How she brings him his jacket everyday and ties his shoes. (in knots that his mother cannot undo- poetic, uh?) And how he compliments her earrings and promises to share ALL his toys with her, including the shiny helium-filled balloons bought for a party; when the mere suggestion of giving each one to a kid in attendance triggered a level-5 meltdown. And begs to have her over for a playdate.

This morning as we sat down for breakfast, BigGeek solved a puzzle. Chip’s school has a rotating policy – the two rooms for their age-group switch teachers weekly. Why it is so is only known to the powers that be. Chip, would always whine about going to one class or another. At first we thought maybe it was the teacher, (it was to a certain extent) but the last few weeks, it was becoming rather haphazard. Until BigGeek understood what had been happening. Chip, would go to the class he was assigned to for that week, peep in and look for N. Not having found her, he would run to the other class and look for her there. If she was in the class he was not assigned, Chip would break out in a mega-whine.

Today, I went to drop Chip off and while I was punching the code to enter, Chip saw N’s car pull. “Look Aie! That’s car. I want to wait for her.” So while N’s mom parked the car, and N stepped out, we stood out in the freezing cold, a wide grin plastered on Chip’s face. As soon as N saw Chip, she came running over and held his hand. I punched the code again and we all entered. “We must have N over for a playdate oneday.” I said to N’s mom. “Yes, yes, at home it’s always Chip this and Chip that.” I felt a little relieved. As the two kids ran to their room, Chip had forgotten Aie. “Bye Chip” I said, but he did not hear me. He was busy chatting with N and I as walked to my car, I knew my son had grown up.<sup>*

*</sup>This is written in a moment of mush. Two hours later, I know I am going to tell him to “grow up” and stop being a baby. Motherhood is mostly about contradictions.