“Were these mine too?” A Jr asked amusingly in between guffaws.
My third trimester had just begun. I was at Mom’s and sifting through a large carton containing A Jr’s old stuff to borrow any usable hand-me-downs for my expecting baby. He being the first child, both Mom and I had gone bonkers shopping for him. Some stuff had even remained untouched and unused.
When A Jr grew out of it I had simply packed all of it up and sent it to Mom’s for putting away. Call it my selfishness or silliness, in the bleak hope of giving him a sibling sometime in future; I hadn’t shared any of his infant memorabilia with anyone. Clothes, toys, quilts, books, bottles, teethers, sweaters, and what say you. It was all there.
With A Jr by my side, I was on a walk down the memory lane, sharing with him cute little anecdotes about something he picked out of curiosity. Which t-shirt he would wear the whole time, how he cried his eyes out when I put a cap on him or which toy he went to bed with at night; blushing and giggling he heard it with great interest.
There was this small bag that contained many pairs of tiny shoes of different styles and colours, the sight of which made A Jr ask me the question in the beginning. It was very cute when he measured them against his fingers and feet and laughed hysterically, “Oh! Mamma, see I’ve grown so much! Are you keeping them for Bachchu (that’s what he called Angel and still does) now?”
Nodding in the affirmative, I informed him that although kids’ shoes don’t usually get dirty I was going to wash them up so they won’t smell from being kept away for so long. Unexpectedly, overwhelmed with all his big brotherly love and affection, he announced that he will wash them for the baby (Also, he will let it know he did it! :-P), and he did!
Following my instructions, he arranged the shoes in correct pairs and soaked and rinsed them one by one, deftly and dotingly. Every few minutes he would come to ask me if he was doing it right. It took him a good half an hour to wrap it up. Who would care about that when the sight was so heart-warming though, right?
Faintly exhausted, I went and sat on the couch where the maid was dusting and putting away unwanted things. There, under the centre table, lay A Jr’s shoes which he had worn the last night; grey and orange in colour, rugged and boyish. I couldn’t help wondering, “When did my baby grow out of his tiny shoes into these? Did I miss something?”
This post has been written for Day 5 of the 7 day blogging challenge BAR-A-THON.
Today’s prompt is ‘Tiny shoes’.