Monday, February 27

Baby steps... 

Enchanted, I look on. She turns away, beaming at her success still, and then, tottering a little, grabs quickly on to the edge of the coffee table. An array of emotions manifest all at once on her face - fear, joy, sorrow. I smile, even as I grind my teeth together in horror, and cheer her on. It works, like magic. And she goes all out for more, and more. And with each encore, she looks at me, as if to check on the pride in my eyes, and flashes her dimpled-cheek smile. These, to put it mildly, are moments I live for, die for. What’s so special about a ten-month old crawler learning to stand on her own two feet, you ask? It’s in knowing that for nine months even before she came into this world, you only knew she possessed those feet, and then, when you saw them, and re-checked their authenticity, they still were practically useless. Then came the action - flapping, kicking, raising up, and slowly, crawling. Yet, those little booties, they never got dirty. And now, suddenly, it’s time for shoes, albeit pre-walkers. And believe me, the pleasure that derives from seeing her dressed up feet really is second to none. Well, sentiments aside, I guess it’s plain simple for moms to glorify every bit of progress their children make, and delight in all the fudge surrounding it - even if it’s something as flat as cleaning dirty shoes to a shine (although I’m yet to reach that stage).

Well, that is not all. She can now ‘talk’ a little, and to me, most of her garbled up words, appear to bear meaning contextually; even though her dad swears he cannot comprehend the head or tail of them. She displays her approval and disapproval alike with much ease, and just the other day, she nodded her head very heartily in commendation of the tang of a rather spicy Indian curry. Speaking of spice, her palate is now an extended one, and she relishes hot, sweet, and a dash of sour too. No basic mashed vegetables and boring bland food for her!

Next, she’s going to walk, and then, she’s going to start to have actual conversations with us. Until then, I’m going to have to make do with the smart and sweet shots she takes at these, prepping her up, watching her constantly lest she hurts herself badly, egging her on, and all through, guessing what thoughts are crossing her little mind. Motherhood is wearisome, but there are rewards, and they’re bigger than life. For instance, those butterfly kisses that wet my face, they’re what keep me going - they wake me in the middle of the night, and boost my energy to shout hurray, enact teddy-bear-turn-around, or say, put my thoughts down like this.