Dear Diary,
It is with a feeling of immense relief that I pick up my pen to start jotting down my emotional state on your pages today.
I am literally in the middle of nowhere, physically and mentally!
It so happened that my wife fell sick and needed constant care, which I think was an easy job compared to what I’m doing now. For the sake of our 4 year old daughter’s health, we decided it was best if she stayed away while my wife’s condition was still contagious. Which is how I ended up with Misha, my daughter, on the side of a mountain, sleeping in a tent.
I really thought I had grown up. Apparently not, because what 33 year old man thinks of taking a trekking expedition with a toddler? I don’t want to admit it, but Misha was more like an overexcited puppy than a little girl when she discovered that she would be ‘climbing a mountain’. I guess I should have paid heed to my wife’s warning, which went something like this – “She’s a fireball of unending energy, do not think you can live out your dream of trekking without serious tears.”
Again, I’m 33 and she’s 4, so how bad could it be?
Very, very bad, actually.
You may also like to read this article Think before you praise your child.
First of all, I learnt that a toddler will do exactly what she wants – your warnings, protests and pleas are nothing but jokes for her. If she wants to take her teddy for the trek with her, you can bet you’re not leaving your hotel without the damned stuffed toy. If she wants to eat a really messy hamburger before even having started the trek, you better be equipped with napkins. There is no ‘no’ in her world. At least not when I’m the only adult with her.
It was all okay as we made the 3 hour drive to the resort in the mountains. I handled the constant chatter about her favorite cartoons for two hours, dodged a little motion sickness episode by stopping the car just in time, thanked my wife endlessly for potty-training our daughter so well.
But a new place unleashed all of the craziness that children seem to hide very well in familiar surroundings. My precocious little girl showed me how her precociousness at home was just the tip of the iceberg. I didn’t know that ‘little girls never ever have to eat veggies when they are out without mommy,’ or that curly hair is not supposed to be brushed out when dry. You can’t wear black socks with pink pants; your hairband (or was it a rubber band? Something that goes on the top of the head anyway) has to match your shoes, dress, or whatever she wants it to match with on a given day.
How can a child have so many opinions? How do they even know what they want when 90% of the adults I know aren’t clear about what they want?
I turn to look at her for an answer, but she is sleeping soundly in the tent, tucked up with her goddamned teddy. I guess I’d do it all over again just to see her expression as she took in the view from the top of the mountain. Wonder, fascination and awe filling her big, brown eyes. Anything to show my little fireball how wonderful life can be, and how blessed I am to be learning these lessons in fatherhood for her.
Tomorrow we trek down for an hour to get back to the hotel. Interesting, how much thought can go into contemplating sixty minutes with a little girl!
Unaware,
“Dad”
