Christmas is a time when children eagerly look forward to their gifts. Every year on Christmas Day for the past fifteen years Santa has been visiting our children and has filled up the stockings with lots of gifts. We would also get a small Christmas tree ( the artificial ones that you get in the stores) and would decorate it and keep it in our living room. A week before Christmas my children would keep giving me lists of gifts that they hoped Santa would leave besides their bed. On twenty fourth night their excitement used to reach a feverish pitch. Every now and then they would come to me wondering if Santa would remember to get their gifts. Early twenty fifth morning we would hear whoops of joy from their rooms as they would shout with glee seeing the gifts besides their bed.
Sometimes when the gifts that they wanted were some expensive gadgets and they would instead find books, or pens or other things they would groan and complain to me saying that Santa had not given them what they had asked for. I would then tell them that Santa has to give millions of gifts, and he cannot give everyone what they ask for. Even Santa goes through recession times right?
Now they might be grown up, but who can resist the allure of getting a gift? So now when we are around they throw loud hints hoping we would hear what gift they want from Santa. But this Christmas Santa had a special gift for my elder son. When he opened his gift, out tumbled a shaving kit!! I suddenly realised that my little baby had grown up! How did Santa know?? My mind was swirling with mixed emotions. Here stood before me, a tall gangly teenager who was just the other day crawling and was being carried by me. Somehow I never realised how much and how fast time had flown!
As we stood there, I could not bear to see my little baby, whose skin had been nurtured by application of olive oil and milk cream when he was a small baby, now applying a blade! My husband was one proud man. He now had to initiate his son into the intricacies of shaving! What more, my younger son made the grand announcement about this to his grandparents. As the training session started my younger son and me were the interested audience watching every move with rapt attention. Since it was a memorable day we captured it on the video ( Wanted to save it for posterity when he can show his children the day he first shaved!). At the first stroke of the razor I could not help but wince. As the finer nuances of the strokes and motions were taught, I stood and watched. Finally the whole act of clean shaven look was achieved.
I felt a twinge of pain as I looked up at this teenager who had grown a foot and a half taller than me and somewhere in the corner of my heart I knew that I would always miss my little baby.
Aww.. this is such a sweet blog. Although my son is a good 9 inches taller than me, he will always continue to be "my lil baby". Every time, we cross the main road or a busy traffic area, my hand instinctively reaches out to protect and guide him, only to hear his irritated and angry "don't hold my hand" comment. This amuses me so much. The hair on his face, his tallness, his opinions, his desire for independence etc. are regular reminders of his growing up and pointers to treat him more like an equal now.
Very true. Right now they are at that stage of leave me alone... I call this a 'touch me not' stage, another phase of growing up. Thanks.
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