Miki loves to go to the shops. Often, he accompanies his father, or our helpers, Neelam or Tania, to buy some daily essentials from the grocery store downstairs. His favourite things to buy are the ripe, red tomatoes. Therefore, even if we have enough tomatoes at home, at least one or two of them will appear after every foray.
One day, he was playing with my handbag, and a coin fell out from the open zip.
Afraid that he would put it in his mouth, I quickly stopped him and said, “Keep it back, Miki, it is for the shop uncle. We must pay him for the things we want to buy.”
In his baby language, interspersed with some English / Hindi / Bengali words, he spoke rapidly, “Oh… yes… we go there… then pick, pick, pick… Uncle is there… We drop the coins… (There is a cash machine at the store) … hmmm… ok…”
I was totally amazed at his observation and recollection. I assumed that on some occasions, he must have seen Neelam drop the coins in the machine (since we don’t carry cash, only she uses cash for the household purchases), and he remembered the process. While talking, he replaced the coin inside the bag, then asked me to zip it back.
“So that it won’t fall out,” he said, communicating with broken words and action.
This week, it was his preschool’s term break, and his favourite time: “Holidayyyy!” as he says it. I took him for the first time to a play area in I12 Katong. The space had many zones, one with play dough, another with artificial sand (for the kids to play as if on a beach), another area had a grocery store with display areas filled with vegetables and fruits. There was also a mini kitchen set up along with the store. On the other end, the store had two rows filled with make-up products, a tall mirror and some princess dresses, dedicated entirely to the girls, juxtaposed with an array of guns and police car and uniforms for the boys. A tiny merry-go-round was almost hidden in a corner by the trampolines. The star of the play area was a giant activity castle with a long slide.
The first thing he did was to go shopping. He pulled out a mini cart and started placing vegetables and fruits in it. Then he went to the cashier and asked me to show him what to do. Later, he went to the kitchen, washed his hands, and cooked some eggs. Eighty percent of the one-hour playtime was spent on this activity, and he seemed like a pro! As I watched, clicking photos, recording short videos for posterity (Miki loves watching those videos as well), I wondered if we were this alert, observant, and capable of mimicking adult activities at a similar age. I highly doubt it.
However, the ultimate coup de grâce struck two days ago, which propelled me to write this story.
Neelam had taken Miki to the shop around midday. As usual I was in the bedroom, on my phone when she left. Hearing Riki cry, I stepped out to check on her. She was playing with Tania and was refusing to get her hair tied. Giving her a quick peck on the head, I went to the kitchen, intending to finish some cooking that I had planned for the day. A few minutes later, I heard Neelam return with Miki. He dawdled in, talking non-stop. In a minute, he was standing next to me, asking to be picked up. These days, he sometimes sat on the kitchen counter, watching me cook. I explained every step, hoping to get him more interested in the food he eats, thereby increasing his appetite, leading to better overall growth.
“Where is the purse?” Neelam exclaimed from the hall. “Miki, you were carrying the purse, where is it?” She stopped beside us.
“Oh, in the drawer!” He replied.
“Huh!” Neelam was shocked. “Drawer? Where?”
I passed him to her. “The purse?”
“He was carrying it while we went to the store, and back as well,” she responded defensively.
Before I could respond, Miki wriggled out of her arms and strode to the buffet table in the hall. Standing on tiptoes, he pulled open the first drawer, reached inside, wiggling his fingers, took out the blue purse, which held the household allowance.
“Who put it there?” We exclaimed in unison.
He nodded, tapping his chest.
“Oh wow, Miki, well done!” cried Neelam, scooping him up in her arms.
“Well done, shona!” I was a little shell-shocked.
“Wah, Miki!” piped Tania, sitting on the playmat with Riki (oblivious to the whole drama unfolding in front of her).
Miki beamed calmly, as if the act, he had just demonstrated, was not at all surprising. A two-year-old knew exactly where the purse was kept, and after returning from the shop, instead of just throwing it on the side, he had actually placed it back in its place.
We asked him to do it again, and again, and then again when Rahul returned from work. Every time, he did it with such confidence, although the buffet table was quite high, the drawer handle, just within reach, when he was on tiptoes, and of course, he couldn’t see inside the drawer.
More than astonishment, I was overwhelmed with a sense of pride, mixed with unease. To what extent, was he silently observing us. Frequently, I have caught glimpses of him mimicking our actions, such as attempting to drape my handbag on an arm before stepping out, imitating the way his parents use a laptop when asked how we work, my angry outbursts (reflected when he threw tantrums or admonished Riki), and our words (calling the helpers by their names, instead of Aunty or Didi).
Miki has always been a very sensitive boy, quiet, observant. Occasionally, we notice him watching with wide eyes, tracking our every move. Setting an example, by being an example, has never rung truer. It is scary, disturbing and overwhelming, because it immediately raises the bar for the parents. We need to own our actions, not by pretending, but by unlearning the negative ones, to adopting new, better, and deeply conscious ones. It won’t happen in a day, not in a week, maybe not in months, but if we know what needs to be done, the battle is half won.
One step at a time… A motto I find repeating to myself so very often, with calming breaths and a glance at some memorable photos in my phone (it helps to divert my mind).
For now, I am just a proud mom, trying her best to raise two little ones, to be happy, kind, and loving human beings!
Way to go Miki, waiting with bated breath for your next surprise!
Footprints on the Mind 
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