I don’t think there is anyone in this world who has not heard this from the parents – You don’t listen to us. You have bad manners, you have no etiquettes etc. Also, somehow, others’ children are always better behaved and well-mannered than ours.
Some time ago, I was with my kids at the park and was discussing with a fellow mother about her daughter’s birthday party. I was generally asking her what she’d prefer as a gift for her six year old daughter’s birthday.
The prayer of innocents is, I believe, the purest form of prayer. When we pray, we need to leave ourselves behind and simply bring our heart along. For children, this gift comes rather naturally. If only it were that simple for us adults! It is a struggle to still our hearts and blank our minds. It is difficult to put ourselves away and get into the mood for prayer. For a child, this comes without a thought, instantly! Here’s a little poem that I penned after a heart-softening bed-time moment with my son Mark.
It is said that in the olden days little girls were made of sugar and spice and all that’s nice while little boys were made of frogs and snails and puppy dog tails. Obviously somewhere along the line, the formula got jumbled up and in today’s day and age, both girls and boys are made out of grey cells that are far advanced than ours ever were. Indeed, without sounding like a doting grandmother, I’d like to believe that kids today are wired differently.
Mother of a 6-year-old boy, K, came to me in the beginning of April; she was very tensed. On enquiring what happened? She said ‘I had booked a summer camp for K, 3 months ago where he was to be busy for 6 hours a day. They just informed that camp is cancelled, as they did not get requisite permissions; Doc, do you know of any camp where I can keep him busy for 4-6 hours? If he remains at home, we will die fighting’.
One Sunday evening my kid got pushed while playing on the play structure. He comes with his bruised elbow to the bench where I was sitting with a few sobs.
Seeing that bruise, made my heart skip a beat, and I blow the mud off his bruise while keeping a sharp ear towards his details.