The drill.

You remember the last time you visited your friend Z who had gotten a new puppy..?

What is the first thing you get to see?

Z to the puppy: ‘Jimmy…show them how high you can jump and take this treat off my hand. c’mon c’mon’

Jimmy obediently does as he is asked to, looks up expectantly for appreciation.

Z: Well done Jimmy! That’s my boy! Am so proud of you…So so sooo proud of you…Muahhhhhhhh!

Now do you remember the last time you visited your friend B who got a toddler ..?

B to toddler: ‘Sweetie, show uncle and aunty how you can sing ‘rain rain go away’’

Toddler does an animated sing dance sequence for the rhyme, finishes it and looks up to his mom for appreciation.

B: Well done sweetie!! Mummy is soo sooo roud of you…Muahhhhhhhhh!!

God save these parents!!

How? How can they showcase their baby this way?

Ridiculous.

AnnieDog

This week we went over to a friend’s place. They have a one year old. She is giggling, smiling and doing all the cute things she is meant to.

I look at Dhruv. He is there. Just fiddling with some piece of broken toy he found. Absolutely disinterested.

I think to myself one second, and then unable to resist myself, I shoot.

‘Dhruv, what does your grandmom call your dad?’

Dhruv looks up as if to say ‘Haven’t we been through this a 100 times mom?’

But he decides to reply ‘Sabarimone..’

I dont stop there, I go on with:

  • what everyone in the house calls everyone else
  • how the rhymes are sung
  • what the neighbour’s kids do
  • how is he supposed to pray

And on and on and on…

He politely obliges all through the session.

We were almost done, I had that knowing proud smile on my face. The one of accomplishment. The one of an olympic trainer whose disciples just bagged a gold medal. I was doing the ‘Well done my baby…muah muahhh…’ in my head.

This is when my friend turns around – half amused and half scornful and says: ‘So, this is his drill huh??’

My face turns pink in embarrassment and outrage.

I say ‘Huh?’

She says: ‘So is this the drill he is trained to perform every time?’

I want to bury my face into a mud pit twice my height.But I can’t.

So I smile sheepishly, brushing my hair so that the focus is my hair rather than my face.

I wanted to tell her – No, no…am not one of those moms. I am the mom who lets her son be.

Never mind, the damn mother in me peeks out every time I want to confine it.

And so it appears that my love for showcasing my Dhruv will not die that easy. I may be one of those loud squeaking moms who hug and cry evertime her teenaged son goes for a 2 days trip to a town 2 hours from home or worse still, Dhruv maybe one of those unfortunate ones who score a goal on the football field and is embraced not by his girlfriend but by a highly excited middle aged mom who cant fit into her jeans but still adorns a cheerleader’s role for him!!!

God save you my son!

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