Its Kuku’s 3rd birthday and I am overwhelmed about how these years passed and we survived without going insane. Its not only his birthday but also 3 years of parenting journey that I feel was OK-ish-ly OK. Today morning, I wished Kuku a ‘Happy Birthday’ followed by an emotional monologue only to realize that everything might have filtered through his ears and honestly even if he heard me, he might forget it all as he grows up. So, I decided to pen it down into a letter.

Dear Arihaan,

I love you a lot, maybe you will hate your nickname ‘Kuku’ when you grow up so I better address you as Arihaan in this letter. You know when you babbled your first syllables, ‘kooo kooo’; I couldn’t help myself but name you ‘Kuku’ because you sounded like a melodious Cuckoo. Also, I had a bit of competition with your father as his choice of your first name was accepted on initial instance.

Arihaan, I may be strict with you on some days and you might feel comfortable to go to your father. But that is just me stealing some ‘me’ time and off-loading some of my pressure on to him. Also, note, that happens vice versa too. OK!! It’s just us playing good cop bad cop with you, because trust me there is no other way to get some time for ourselves.

Also, your toy that stopped working suddenly, it was me who removed its batteries. I did bring that toy for you but unlike other toys you were never planning to outgrow this annoying ‘tadadada’ musical toy. One more thing, the Dr. Seuss’s ABC book that suddenly went missing for 3 days. It was not missing; I hid it because I was bored of reading it 10 times before bed. I wanted to read something new, luckily this trick worked, and you were showing interest in other books until your favorite aunt Susan found it under the bed while cleaning.

Your tantrums are growing day by day, one day you asked for pancakes and just when it was served you refused to eat it. What? You wanted an egg-toast then. The pace with which your demands change, it can give serious competition to the stock market flips.

Having said all this, I still love you a lot. I love you every morning when you cling on to me disallowing me to go out of bed. I love you every time you eat from my plate and feel satisfied, to have ate with me. I love you every moment when you are trying to tell me a story of what just happened 2 minutes ago. I love every night when you snatch my phone to keep it away and ask for a cosy head rub. I love every single instance when you repeat what I say. Ahem. Ahem. reminding me to be careful of what I blurt. Oh God! I lost that freedom too. Yet, I love you, for all those cute pecks I get from you.

Arihaan, your father and I are trying our best to set correct examples in front of you. You may think we are wrong on some aspects, (from your perspective, of course), but we always want the best for you. When you grow big and make your own decisions, look back and see through the learning path that we guided you on. Be respectable and accommodate to loved ones around you. Not everyone that crosses your path is a friend or foe, trust your instincts before trusting anyone.

Whenever in life you need any kind of advice, choose us. We promise to be your 24/7 helpline, open and available anytime. Last but not the least, your father and I love each other a lot, I say this because I want you to set a bar for your yourself. I wish to see your relationship with your better half having the same amount of respect and love that your parents share with each other.

Now your expressions are like; mamma’s gone mad today morning, what is she jabbering, and your father has also started to grow impatient blowing the birthday balloons alone. Before the house is turned upside down, lets get back to business.

Come on, have breakfast, it’s your favorite banana pancake. (that you are going to reject.)

Wish you a happy birthday again, Arihaan.

Your trying to be sane
Mamma
And having Mamma’s back
Papa (psst … also your only good cop)

P.S. – your father edited it to “also your only good cop” later.