It has been a long time since I wrote a morning ten-minute rant. But for the past couple of days, the pot is boiling in my head and the stock simmering just ready to bubble out. Today the boiling point was reached and here I am.
I don’t know if God is a man or a woman, but God definitely is a parent. How can one otherwise justify the fact that your child turns out just like you!
Yes Pa, that is exactly what I was thinking… High up somewhere among the clouds you would be holding your cup of tea and laughing behind the newspaper.
“Justice is Served”
He would be saying and I agree it is. The tables have exactly turned on me. If I was the prototype then Avi (my son) is the advanced version of all the tantrums I threw years back. My Pa and I raced all the way down the apartment to the parking lot. His agenda – his daughter eats something for breakfast, and mine… how not eat anything in life.
Eating food was a task for me and so my tantrums I believe were justified but cut forward to a winter morning in 2022, and I roll my eyes at the electrifying drama for my son is a foodie. Yet, every morning I apologize to my dad for all the tantrums thrown at him for 24 years. I started eating meals after his death. No one insisted, so I started eating myself.
My husband often tells me that I should just let my son be. If I don’t run after him for a few days he will stop troubling me. Principally he is right. But I am an honours graduate majoring in Child Development and psychology, and let me enlighten you good people that none of the parenting theories will work on your own kids. You can try them with other people’s kids they work… but within your own four walls of being a parent, the results are nil… nada… negligible.
Of course, I scold my child and we argue and bicker about how each one of us has troubled the other. I confess that while this altercation is going on, my conscience is also reminding me about the same blood/milk in my hands and that too up to the age of twenty-four. But to clear the air with parenting judges… just before the bus arrives we kiss and make up.
Moreover, I believe these idiosyncracies and tussles are a part of growing up and memories. And on top of it, I know sometime in the future Justice Will Be Served, my son will be ranting and I will have the last laugh.