Since Aru has been born, we’ve been precious.
It’s been all organic.
We’ve carefully selected his nannies from 20 candidates.
His routine has rarely been undone.
We’ve read books.
Sought help from the experts.
Restrained family from giving him chocolate.
Wiped his butt with nothing less than the purest of ass wipes.
He’s our first.
Clearly we didn’t want to ruin him.
Slowly, slowly, some parts of this have unravelled.
Like when we dine at KONG and can’t be bothered to make him homemade khichadi, we give him food from KONG. Yes, royal swag, I know.
Was his first 3 hours at daycare.
And I couldn’t control.
I couldn’t be precious.
I couldn’t even be in the room (well, technically, I could, but it wouldn’t be best for him).
IT. WAS. OUT. OF. MY. HANDS.
And you know what.
It was damn good for him.
Because tomorrow, he’ll be assaulted with Mac Donalds, gin & tonics, blaring dance parties, flirting girls, rude people and crazy people. The world will slowly but surely come and join our little dance.
And if I never give him a dose of it, he’ll struggle when it happens.
I’m so glad for every family member who wanted to overdose him with chocolate.
Take him for a swim in the cold (you know who you are).
Forcefully wipe his nose.
Ignore him or berate him with he cried to (lovingly) toughen him up.
I’m grateful to every stranger who hasn’t oogled at him or smiled at him.
I’m grateful for everyone who unraveled our precious.
Because today, he came home smiling (and alive) after 3 hours of daycare.
And that is not all me.
It’s also you.