Parenting your parent

The angiography report is a grim site. The severity of blockage in the femoral arteries is profound. My ever-inquisitive Dad wants to know all & as he realizes that his hearts receiving lesser blood than what’s normally required, he suffers a psychological attack.

His mental age regresses to that of a 5 year old & he’s the family’s baby now. Everyone spoils him smothering him with well meaning concern.

I’m his new mum, who makes sure along with his regular dose of love & affection; he gets on a disciplined routine of diet and exercise. My Mum (his wife) plays the role of the ayah. Our baby keeps his ayah on her toes all day, throws tantrums & pays no heed to her well-meaning gestures.

Every morning, our baby resists his healthy but boring breakfast with renewed intensity. I split the breakfast into morsels, cajoling him to consume each morsel, glorifying each mouthful that he takes with impatient appreciation. The watch is ticking away & I’m getting late for work but our baby’s adamant as he slowly leafs through the morning newspaper without the care in the world.

Come evening, I take our baby & the ayah for a walk on the seaside. Our baby meticulously ties his shoelaces slowly. Its 15 minutes & I offer to tie his laces for him as I shift my weight impatiently from one foot to the other. “Don’t hurry me ! I can do it myself ”... he barks. My enthusiasm shrivels as I slink back & wait another 10 minutes cooling my heels waiting for his majesty to embark on his ritual exercise regime.

As I drive, he commands me where to park the car. Search me, if you wanna know why he’s being picky about where to park the car. It’s just a baby’s way of having things his way I suppose. I feel like a struggling parent, trying to keep my patience no matter how hard my baby tries to drive me against the wall.

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