Now, our child on the other hand, is a stickler for routine thanks to
his ever efficient, meticulous, second watching Nounou. Shabd’s week Monday to
Friday from 07h30 to 18h00 run as efficiently as a Swiss clock, never missing a
second. His weekends diverge significantly from the well-oiled machinery known
as the ‘work week’ due to his parent’s aforementioned repulsion for routines.
Anything can happen during the weekend, there really is no plan, the objective
being to get through it not feeling as exhausted as we do going into it and
most importantly, to have some fun.
That was until one day Papa decided that it was absolutely imperative
that the rock sand knoll had to be moved to a place which would not create such
discomfort to the eye. Note the rock sand was conveniently located slam bang at
the entrance to our house! What a mission this would turn out to be as
bucketful after bucketful of rock sand was collected and moved. And so, clouded
as an inconspicuous little chore, routine stepped into our weekends.
 |
| Shabd supervising the moving of potted plants |
Sundays usually start of early, with a rushed simple breakfast of tea
and fresh buttered bread rolls from the local bakery. We want to spend as much
time outside before the sun becomes too intense and shoo’s are back indoors. We
plough away at the garden, one section at a time, one weed at a time while Shabd
the ever willing and obliging assistant hops skips and jumps all around, supervising
the works.
Shabd helps shovel the rock sand into his little red bucket and dutifully empties it into his little yellow wheelbarrow. He then proceeds to walk his wheelbarrow to the dump site at far end of the property, all the while imitating Papa. If he feels that Papa is slacking, he’ll kindly lay down his tools, and take up Papa’s tools or help walk alongside the wheelbarrow, holding onto one handle for safety.
 |
| Discussing the rock sand issue with Papa |
Shabd also helps us with digging up and transplanting plants as we try
to tame our wild garden. Again, he comes prepared with his little yellow tiger stool
and green spade, merrily loosening the tight earth that hug the palms and other
assortment of plants, singing little ditties as he works at sculpting our
garden.
 |
| The palm Shabd planted |
Shabd has no qualms about lifting an errant snail off a leaf yet he
dislikes his hands becoming dirty, to which he urgently calls out for a ‘wipe.’
How he manages all his tasks with his hands remaining soil free is still a
mystery to me, but I guess we all have our quirks so how can I begrudge him
his.
Lunch time is a family affair, sometimes had al fresco. Tummies thus
full and exhausted by the mornings arduous gardening and cleaning, we all
retire to bed for a story before we all fall fast asleep.
 |
| Snail removed, wipe please! |
The late afternoon finds me in the kitchen baking cake for tea as
sounds from outside waft in through the window. They are sounds of love as I hear
Shabd saying, ‘help Papa’ and Papa automatically responds, ‘Thank you Shabd for
washing the car.’ Shabd is a very helpful child and manages to thoroughly wet
himself and the surrounding arbour while washing the vehicles. Oh well, wet
clothes can be changed, the lessons and the memories will remain.
 |
| Help Papa! |
This little routine has brought us comfort, predictability and
surprisingly enough, fun. While our Sundays might sound terribly boring, at
this point in our lives, with what feels like the whole world falling apart, it’s
exactly what his mummy needs.
 |
| Help Papa! |
I know that one day I will sit under our lapa, with a clear undisturbed view of our flourishing garden and smile at the remembrance of our serene Sundays, when my little boy planted the palm tree whose leaves now seem to almost touch the sky.
 |
| Time for a ride! |
No comments:
Post a Comment