"We wouldn't be wet if its raining and we are in a car, would we dad?" you said on
a stormy, wet morning in October 2017.
"Or if we are in our home, or the garage or gym or marquee....'' You continued in your charming sing song way. Your cosy feeling of having comforts and choices enveloped me too, invoking that warm parental pride of being able to provide and protect.
We were making preparations for a post Diwali party at our home. After your classes, the two of us went off to shop for some party supplies and decorations. As part of a phenomenon as old as shops and toys, you were captivated by the charm of those soft colorful toys, adorning the aisles and shelves.
As is the duty of every child, you started pleading with me to get you one of
those soft toys. And as every parent does, I resisted the urge to give in, trying to explain how you have more than enough of soft toys.
At one point you said " But these are not soft! Look they are quite...... hard! ''
What was hard now was for me to keep a stern face as I had already started laughing out at your parley. That's a mistake as any negotiator on parent will tell you.
Like a seasoned sales-woman, you realised your pitch was making your dad malleable too. Your face changed from a pleading sorry to a smiling- pushing one as you repeated the hard-soft line a few times.
I did recover though and made counter offers for getting you one of the educational board games instead. And it went on for a few rounds ending in a grumpy you. After 10-15 minutes of you acting grumpy and me acting aloof, unfettered by your tantrums, we arrived at the negotiating table again.
We were now in the stationery aisles and your demands were much more reasonable, more utilitarian and less expensive. And soon we had a deal- we agreed on a little bag of colorful beads for making crafty stuff.
The party went well, although the marquee that day couldn't stand the strong winds and had to be taken down much before we started. The good thing is,
we managed well within the safe walls of our warm home.
Dear daughter,
Like you, I had a somewhat safe, plentiful childhood by most standards. A large, safe house and more toys and games than any one I knew. Living in India, I did
understand that what I had was a blessed life -my dad's absence hadn't hit me yet, not in those terms. And that by itself says a lot about the love I received.
Yet, I remember pleading my mom for getting me something or the other. When she refused, I remember thinking about her lack of love for me. How wrong was I.
It didn't take me very long to realise why she was doing that. As a parent or even a responsible person its all about prioritising what's more important for your children in the long term. Giving that warm, fuzzy feeling of having a shelter to go back to, a home to feel safe in and a family to belong to are much more important than granting the temporary gratitude of a new soft toy.
So if and when you are judging us by your memories of stern refusals, remember this - we were always balancing, judging our reactions to your demands on the scales of allowing too much or too little.
What I never try to weigh and cut down though is the time I get to spend with you.
I'm sure there will be a day and age when it will be your turn to measure the
time and money you spend on either your mom and me. I’m sure you will have your own compulsions and pulls to balance your allocations. I do hope
you will have the luxury and love of being generous to us then.
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