Someone from the Community Library had contacted me last Wednesday about a session of stoytelling cum craft and fun on Friday evening at 7pm. Admission was free and the target audience were children from the age of four. I had figured that Ashwini would love to attend the session. Since Mira was not yet four and (technically) could not be attending the session, I thought I'd just spend some alone time with her - read some books or do some window shopping. I only hoped that she would not be disappointed. In any case, both girls would welcome the change from going home directly after I'd have picked them up from childcare.
Last evening, when we reached the Library, I directed the girls towards the story-telling room where many other children were waiting for the person-in-charge to usher them in. Some already removed their shoes and were waiting for the signal to enter. I looked around wondering if I could ask someone in charge if Mira could enter the room as well sine my dear toddler looked quite determined to follow Ashwini in. Well, I did not have to wonder long.
Mira simply removed her shoes and looked determined to walk in with Ashwini. The Librarian was reluctant at first but then had a change of heart when she saw that Mira appeared quite independent and comfortable. I had full faith in my fiery little tot. She stayed there for an hour with the older kids, quite happy. It also helped that Ashwini's K2-mate, Yasmin, was there too with her cousin.
Later on, Ashwini reported that Mira had some trouble during the card-making session. The Librarian had picked the best cards for display. Ashwini's matter-of-fact quip was that Mira could not accept the fact that her cardmaking was not good enough (both Ashwini's and Mira's cards were not picked) but that we all have to "accept it" i.e., accept our limitations and move on. That's a life lesson, folks!
"We have to accept it." Ashwini (5 yrs)
Sreeni joined us at Swensons - a natural choice since (besides the fact that we would be served) there was enough variety to answer to the range of dietry preferences. When the girls saw him, they greeted him with a resounding 'Daddy!' that turned all startled heads at the restaurant and had Sreeni and I wishing that we could just vanish into thin air. Ashwini's gave him a peck on the cheek, talking loudly as usual and Mira even climbed over the table to get onto his lap. When the waitress came over to take the order, Mira, reached out, touched her hand and stroking it, asked in a sugar-coated voice, 'Can I have ice-cream?' The young momentarily bewildered waitress burst out laughing and looked at me in amusement. Sreeni and I simply shook our heads - half in answer to her unspoken question, and half in genuine speechlessness.
After taking our dinner orders, the smiling waitress left us - at the mercy of our daughters' company. It seemed like forever before and after dinner arrived. Then as usual, Mira had trouble sitting down. She was off the chair, whenever she could. After a point (between taking bites of her food), she was walking around, smiling gregariously at the other customers in the restaurant. Most of them were amused and I was hoping that they would stay amused.
Well, the rest of the eating experience went on in a similar way, with occasional 'breaks' for Sreeni and I and with occasional 'shocks' as well. Thank God, Ashwini's outgrown her restlessness. Now how many months would it be before Mira starts to sit down quietly? Hmm....
I needed to tell myself that we must let go and simply enjoy the craziness. After all, it really will not be long before the two get 'too serious'.
Across our table, I saw a very attractive teenager who was, for the most part, keeping silent as her family of adults and two very young children were talking. The teenager was a student in the school that I teach in. Having had glimpses into her less restrained self at school, I know that she can be more animated in her world of friends and work. She caught my eye and smiled at me - momentarily - in recognition. Throughout our dinner with the kids, I could not help but look at her way now and then. She would exchange words with the older lady next to her but would avert her eyes from the main exchanges at the table in a way that was becoming more and more familiar to me; the normality about the gestures suggested the potential 'separatedness' between the worlds of the many teens and their families that I have seen at restaurants here.
Separation is inevitable, painful yet necessary and may even be healthy but should not be a cold cut. It sparks the beginning of the break into adulthood and individualism.
I wondered about the kind of relationship I wanted between both my girls and me during their teenage. Will I be let into their worlds, as they willingly let me into theirs now?
Well, spend more time with them. That's what they want from me and Sreeni now...
