Posted in Reverse-parenting

Good Morning, Australia

It started a few weeks ago. Every morning, she sits on the stool at the foot of the bed and looks out of the full-length glass doors that lead into the balcony.Through the glass door

To watch the kaa-kaa (crows)“, she says.

As she looks out, she inevitably catches the beautiful morning. The light on the trees and rooftops from the recently risen sun, the early birds – kaa-kaas, ibises, cockoo (cockatoo), mynah (miner), magpie – whichever show up, the morning people and the traffic that is just trickling out of people’s homes. Some days, when the glass is misted, she decides to do a bit of “daa-ing” (drawing) with her fingers till she can see through.

When she is done soaking in the scenery outside, she moves on to her next ritual. Most mornings, it involves rocking the rocking chair and singing, “Row, row, row your boat”, followed by hiding behind the curtains waiting for us to find her. It ends in her giggling delightedly, like outsmarting us is the funniest thing she has experienced.

Irrespective of the time she wakes up, she spends a few minutes cuddling me and breastfeeding, followed by a cuddle session with her dad. With me, she looks up and smiles, then breaks into a hum or a song. I join in. Her dad has the pleasure of her jumping on his belly and singing, “People on the bus go up and down“. Then, she goes to her window while we catch a few extra minutes of sleep.

Watch me

Once we drag ourselves out of bed, we spend 10 minutes drinking tea and checking email, ignoring the busy little person playing with her toys nearby. The rest of the morning moves by in a flurry of activities, ranging from morning ablutions to breakfast to getting dressed up and dashing to the train station. No matter what time we step out of the house, it feels like we could have done better.

Why are we still looking for ways to spruce up our mornings? Why don’t we mirror the activities she has made part of her routine?

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Author:

I used to wonder whether I could ever be a parent. Then I became one. I was handed a delicate little bundle that I was terrified of bringing home. I didn't know how to be a parent and I was sure 'winging it' was not the right way to do it. Little did I know at the time that there is no right way. The baby knew what she wanted and all I had to do was figure it out along the way. As she grows up, she helps me learn what I need to know... I just need to pay attention to her.

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