My Li'l big boy

The last time I wrote something on this blog, lil Isaiah was a cute little toddler. Today, after all these months that I did not care enough to write anything on this blog, Isaiah is a little boy. He is still kind of cute though, to my eyes at least, but he is now a nice little boy and not a baby anymore.

No, he has not gained enough weight to please the doctor nor is he the tallest or fastest boy in class, so how do I know this?

Well, yesterday we watched 'The Lion King' together and when king Mufasa fell off the cliff and died, my son was in tears. Not just welled up, but properly sobbing and the moment I held him close, he was an emotional wreck! He couldn't bear the sight of little Simba running from home in tears. I tried to console him but he was unhappy with the turn of events. He sobbed his way to sleep and with his limited EQ even mumbled something about not having his own son to take care of!

In spite of ruining his bedtime,  I felt happy within and even a bit proud that my little boy could relate to that scene. I remember crying during the same scene when I watched the lion king in my teens and I felt I could connect with him better and that made me feel happy.

As a toddler he would cry for milk, or chocolates or for objects that he had no interest of ever playing with, but this was different. He cried not because he wanted something or was told not to do something. He cried because he was genuinely upset.

He had shown similar sentiments before and sometimes spoke about being sad but it is a bit of craving attention and is just a part of growing up. Guess this streak of sorrow runs in the family and I mean that in a nice way. As a great someone said; 'true bliss can only be found in absolute sorrow... 'or something to that effect.

While watching other movies with scenes where someone, usually children, get hurt we have seen him being disturbed. Certain movies and scenes, I agree, can be very disturbing to children.but No, we do not get offended or criticize people who make such movies, we just distract our kid. When an inappropriate scene pops up we ask him to bring something from the next room that is placed somewhere he cannot reach.

I am someone who can be easily brought to tears by stuff on television. The garden variety death scene with close shots of relatives crying aloud does not work on me but show me some genuine trail of sorrow that I can empathize with and I am done for. Scenes depicting courage, honesty or even despair can open my teary butterfly valves.

'Be a man, don't cry'. Nope, I sometimes cry and I can't help it. Neither do I subscribe to the whole ,'crying is good', 'real men cry', sought of metro-sexual outlook; but to roll those tears in the privacy of my own eyes while making sure no one can see me cry is a well deserved comfort while watching those scenes and should be seen as a manner of appreciation to the folks who created that bit of television.

So I did not tell my boy not to cry or use the age-old adage that 'boys do not cry'. I thought it was fine for now and once he grows older we will tone down the intensity a bit and make him sober enough to gel in with a world where 'boys do not cry'. For now, let him cry.

So that is my little big boy with whom I can have an interesting conversation with, someone I can discuss things with. Now I ask him for opinions on all manner of silly things and spoil him with overtly stupid explanations that he just cannot comprehend. Most of all, at times I see him as a nice little person with whom I can hang out or go on a drive with.Tantrums along the way can be disastrous but the trick is to treat him like an adult and listen to those lovely but often irritating rants and somehow, things are more pleasant when it is just the two of us.

This lovely little song was suggested by my dear sister,

Nouveau parents...

...the arrogant child ruiner's


I had once written this to a very dear friend of mine... "kids are sooo entertaining... its amazing how these lil imbeciles can keep us so amused... Our parents would have lied to us when they said that it was a pain bringing us up... or were we really that bad? Judging by the way Isaiah is, I think our parents had a lot of fun at our expense... whats with parenting... if it is so much fun just to make kids and even more enjoyable to watch them grow... where is the pain and struggle... or am I so bad and lazy that I haven't yet reached the stage where I can experience the burden of responsibility..."

However, this was written while lil Isaiah was in Phase 1- under two years, adorable and delicate, level of curiosity - 35%. A lazy bloke like me could manage that.

Enter Phase II - just over two years, still delicate, adorable but cranky, Mr. cries a lot, tantrum filled tiny socks, disobedient and level of curiosity - over 50%...


The chocolate section at the supermarket is something that we now run by. I look helplessly as my cellphone falls from heights which Nokia had not considered while designing it. One of the first words that he has learnt is 'ella' , or 'No' in mallu speak, and he emphasizes his refusal for almost anything and everything with such pleasure and disregard that it might drive us nuts. However, his cute voice and tonal accentuation of the phrase makes up for his unbeknown arrogance making it the most pleasurable rejection one can hear in their life’s. 


Any attempt to break him from his self imposed diet is met with a rather cute yet assertive "ella". Boy, does this guy rock... or rather make me want to cry... and scream while pulling whats left of my hair and jumping off the balcony... and then, when his immediate wants have been met, he returns to Mr. nice boy, cute smile, lil hugs and louder kisses and as he goes off to sleep, then he seems so adorable that I could do anything to stay alive and be with him till eternity.

I had been a huge tantrum freak during my younger days. So vivid is my memory of those times that this observation comes from myself rather than being reminded by any one else. It was my sister who first enlightened me in a rather critical and sensitive manner about this shortcoming and from then on, I have made a very conscious effort to improve my behavior.

With little Isaiah, it is a test of our patience and mental strength. Ignoring his tantrums and fights so as not to encourage this behavior have been our strategy so far. A little bit of guidance and rebuke is also added for good measure. Nevertheless, there are many situations when we give in to his wants, sometimes as an act of escapism, to end the torture to his baby brain and our large ones and sometimes out of love.

However, we make every effort to refrain from the usual tactics of shouting, scolding, spanking and threatening. This has lead to further criticism from the know-alls about our parenting skills and immaturity as attributed in our silent effort in pampering-the-child-to-destruction. No we don’t want to spoil him... no one does. We know that spanking or scolding might make him stop, but is it not an easy fix solution to our current situation. A solution that does not allow him to grow through the cranky Phase II.

I detest big-mouthed friendly foes who are full of advices on anything and everything… who seem to have the perfect recipe to parenthood, or they usually know someone else who does. It is not perfection that we are looking for… we are not perfect parents and there does not seem to be a perfect method or a one stop solution to child upbringing. It seems to me, a trial and error method with many pitfalls and trials.

With lil Isaiah, all we can do is to be patient and wait for him to enter Phase III – arrogant and curious yet a little bit understanding...


 ...and wait longer for a time when he can understand right and wrong as we see them, and even longer when at a time he can define his own right’s and wrong’s and hope that he can act on them while still being curious and observant.

In spite of all this theory, I still have a headache from last night, and that is me the lazy one... worst affected is my wifey who is bombed beyond recovery from the cheers of motherhood...