I had the daunting task of babysitting my 8-year-old niece, Nat, and 4 year-old nephew Pat again yesterday. After feeding Pat lunch for almost an hour, I sat, colouring Such (from the cartoon CARS) with him, while Nat wrote her journal. Then it’s time for Pat’s nap.
Come, I’ll read you a book before your nap, I told him.
I want the toy story, he said, indicating the story I had read last week.
But you know that one already. I’ll read another one to you. One about a naughty mole.
On hearing that, Nat also rushed upstairs. I want to hear the story too!
The story is about a mole who defied his parents’ order to sleep for the winter. Instead, he left home to play in the snow and fell into the frozen lake but was luckily saved by a passing rabbit. Meanwhile, the mole’s parents discovered that he is missing and the whole mole family went in search of him in the freezing winter. Mother mole was especially frantic.
I turned to Nat. If you are lost like this mole, who do you think is the most worried?
She giggled and replied, I don’t know.
You don’t know? The person who loves you the most, of course. So who do you think loves you the most?
She smiled and said I don’t know again.
Did she really not know or was she just acting shy?
Recently a friend told me she thinks no one in her family loves her. Not her husband nor her two children. I told her she thinks that because she is often critical of her family but it’s probably not true. Asians are just not demonstrative, especially with grown children.
I often asked Aaron in the past, who loves you the most? and he would reply, you!
Why? Because I’m your son, comes his memorized reply from what I’ve taught him eons ago.
Recently, I asked him the question again and his reply was, I.
That makes you narcissistic, I told him, for you to love yourself the most.
He told me, if I don’t love my life, I’ll die.
Now what can i say to that?