Ever since Kiddo was born, I've been sharing his growing adventures with friends and family. Today, I thought I'd share one with you.
I was cooking veggies on the stove today, for Kiddo's lunch. I generally put them in water and slow-cook them on the stove as that way I can add different veggies separately and cook them to the desired mushiness. Kiddo is apparently out to protect and conserve his 7 baby teeth for some arduous future eating and so still prefers his food to be mushy - the peas firm enough to retain the skin, yet soft inside; the beans, on the other hand, have to be cooked until they resemble nothing more than green goo. And so on and so forth. No king could be more pickier, I'm sure, lol.
Getting back on track - knowing well how long that particular veggie would take to do some elementary transformation, I decide to take a well-deserved rest. I lay my aching, up-intermittently-since-2-am legs on the ottoman and settle my behind on a blissfully soft couch cushion. In my hands is the book I've trying to finish for the past 3 weeks (not the book's fault. It's so interesting, in fact, that I try to read it only when I'm sure of not being interrupted). Kiddo is off playing (read destroying) something or the other. I'm eagerly looking forward to a full blissful 6 minutes of doing nothing but rest and read. Unfortunately, it was not to be.
Kiddo comes running up to me. He does this periodically no matter what he's doing, gabbles something in Kiddish and runs off. Today, however, he stands there at my elbow, tugging at my sleeve and running his mouth a mile a minute. I ask him what's the matter. He replies with an even more rapid-fire return round of Kiddish that leaves me bewildered. Not willing to leave behind the comfy cushion where my behind is ensconced most comfortably, I ask him again. He replies vigorously and a tad bit more shrilly, this time pointing somewhere over my head. As I know the windows are in that direction, and feeling it's just a squirrel or something that has him excited, I try to pacify him by saying, 'yes, yes, nice killy (that's how he pronounces squirrel)'. But he's having none of it. Now, arm tugging is introduced.
With a mournful sigh for my nipped-in-the-bud rest and a tender mental apology to my tired feet, I heave myself off of the couch and wearily ask him to 'show me'. These are magic words that Kiddo understands only when convenient to him, this apparently being one such case. So, leading me by the forefinger, he solemnly steers me into the kitchen (a direction completely opposite to where he was pointing earlier, a sense of direction not being one of the things he's mastered...yet). And then towards the stove. He then says something, making a big 'whoosh' sound with lots of arm waving and points upwards ... towards an awesome sight.
The sight of steam billowing out of the pan.
Yes, that apparently was the awesome sight he needed Mommy to come and take a look at.
And dear readers, I was (after I got over the spontaneous burst of laughter, that is). I could easily imagine how such a simple, prosaic thing would inspire amazement in so young a mind. And I was touched, deeply touched. Touched that he wanted to share that wondrous spectacle with me. So I stood there with him, gaping at steam coming out of a pan.
It's just one of the perks that comes with being a Mommy. Not to mention, how it has the power to make a tired Mommy forget all her aches and pains and replace it with a smile and a memory to last a lifetime.
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