Re had Anjelina Jolie lips, for about two days a couple of weeks ago. No, I didn’t pay for a trial lip enhancement, he actually earned it post an injury acquired by hitting his chin on a table and bruising his lower lip. This happened in full public view of four adults –two singletons and two mums, one of which was me.
He wailed for around five minutes. The blood came gushing. I asked for ice, haldi, ice-cream. The singletons did the ice, were confused about the haldi and luckily had the ice-cream. The other mum kept chanting “Should we call the emergency?” every 30 seconds, as though it were some kind of EFT technique. I was calm, as I wanted to give blood its due, which means allow it to clot.
I say: “I think I should be alone with him for a while.”
I think: “Your panic is irritating the shit out of me.”
With an icepack followed by a small vanilla tub, I manage to soothe his bruised lip, nurse him for comfort, and in ten minutes, he is back, beaming. I am quite taken in by his new pout, although I resist taking a picture, as I think it might be vulgar to indulge in his pain. Clearly, blowing the Vuvuzela was out for a day or two (the thing he was preoccupied with before he hit the table)
They laud me: “You are so calm!”
They laud him: “What a brave baby!”
They add: “We must baby-proof the house.”
The mother-in-law says, “We must be very alert” over e-mail.
The mother says, “You must put nazar ka teeka.”
The husband says: ‘We must not trust singletons”
I say: “Shit happens”
But something else got me thinking. It won’t be long before it will stop being cool for him to cry like this. When he will be told that boys don’t cry and will start believing it. When he will be reminded that he ‘wept like a baby.’
At what point do we stop our boys from expressing their feelings? Start telling them that they won’t be men enough if they cry? That not crying is a sign of strength? It made me sad that someday, there is going to be too much pressure on my child to be a man.