Am I an authoritative figure? I have no doubts that I am not. I don't push people. But at home, I have to be. I try to be, rather. My two sons do not particularly have any interest in doing things in an orderly manner. Every ten minutes there is a war cry or a long loud wail. Unfailingly, one will take away something valuable belonging to the other. I believe that amidst the strife there is immense fun for them. They thrive on this conflict. They are laying down the bricks for the memory wall. One day, they are going to sit, arms around each other and laugh at each silly fight.
What do I teach them? I wonder, anything of value? I help them with the text books and the writing.
I constantly push them, to learn from what they around them, to improvise. I like to imagine I taught them to channel their energies to creative ends. We have spent many happy mornings in the terrace of our home, painting on the wall. Any picture we imagined. I have seen volcanoes, dragons, cool cars and enchanted trees, appearing on that unglamorous half wall.
They have taught me all about cars. From the ones in the racing games to the one listed in Top Gear magazines. I have been lectured on the different engine types of European cars, customised for speed. We have laughed at the Greg Heffely's misfortunes. (That's the Wimpy Kid series)
Mornings are the worst. They don't want to wake up. After they are up, they go about in the slowest motion possible. That's when Chocos cheer them up. I even pack it in their snack box at times. On holidays, we bake together. My elder one believes I can't bake a good cake without him.
My own words, coming right back at me. So I had to persevere. After some time, I started to relax and enjoy the two wheeled wonder.
It felt good. The cutting through cool air. The sense of adventure. I felt free, like a child, with no worries about the day's menu or mounting work. I am grateful that he likes to share his happy times and favourite activities with me. There is still a lot of growing for me to do.
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