My nine-year-old son is the center of my universe. This is the story of his childhood as it unfolds. Please read the first post, "Why I started this blog," to know more.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Bad ankle, Bad drivers, Good son!

Okay, the movie was good. (Taare Zameen Par - see previous post) I cried a bit and my son cried a bit more. The kid in the lead role was fantastic. The movie theater wasn't all that great. The incline was so shallow that neither I nor my son could see without maneuvering our heads around a bit. Fifteen minutes into the movie, I put him on my lap to give him a better view. The fact that I had an aisle seat helped.

On the way out, he ran ahead with his friends and I was trying to make sure I didn't lose sight of him in the crowd. On the last step out of the hall, someone hurried past, knocking me sideways. I twisted my ankle on the edge of the step and fell down. Thankfully, a few people helped me get up. I tried to get my bearnings and find my son. He was playing with his friends and one of the mothers was supervising them. Another had taken her son to the rest room while the other had gone out to pick up her daughter, whom her parents were dropping off.

I limped across and told my son I'd fallen down. "Oh," he said, but went off to play with A, his best friend. Outside, the parking arrangements were crazy: cars and bikes seemed to be coming from everywhere. I had a tough time keeping my son within grabbing distance. And all he was bothered about, was being with A. Now, A is more than 2 years older than him and that much more boisterous. They ran off to a corner and I couldn't follow. When we finally managed to get all kids in one place, my son was still trying to get away to go stand with his friend. That's when I gave him a hard slap on his rear. He started to bawl, but my priorities were clear: keep him with me and get out to the road without letting go of his arm.

We didn't get an autorickshaw so we had to cross the road to the other side. That was painful! We finally got one to agree but he drove like a maniac, threatening to offload us half way home when we told him to go slow. There were three kids on board, but he blandly said that was none of his concern! My son was a brat throughout the journey home, while my ankle continued to throb painfully. After getting home, too, all he was worried about was drinking his milk so he could go out and play with A.

Later, I suspect my mother knocked some sense into him because when he came back home after a short visit to her place (my parents live in the same apartment building) because he said he would do anything I told him to and I could rest. (Aw...that was nice.) And he did do all kinds of little things that saved me a couple of painful rounds around the house.

This morning, he listened to me a little more than he normally does. Which is to say we all got ready on time despite my limping around. I put him in his school van as usual. Ten seconds later, the van stopped, a window slid open and the little fellow's head appeared. "Aren't you taking the car today?" he asked, frowning. "I am," I replied. "Then where is it? You won't have to take an auto, will you?"

That's when I realized that our driver hadn't brought the car around like he usually did. My husband probably hadn't locked up and come down yet. "It'll come. Don't worry, baby," I told him. "Okay," he relented, smiled, and closed the window. The van sped off.

I couldn't help smiling to myself. He'd asked his van driver to stop so he could make sure I wouldn't have to walk out to the main road to take an autorickshaw to work because I was limping. And he knows how tough it is to get one during the morning rush hour. It was his way of showing his concern. Thank you for caring, Poppet! :-)

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