When my son was in lower kindergarten, he had to learn about his parents professions. Having seen his father with a camera, he learnt the words studio, photographer and assignment quite early. Having the mother always at home meant, mom was a mom. So I told him, I am an engineer. Then thinking that it might be difficult for him to pronounce the word, I asked him what his grandfather was. My late father and I had been writing on a freelance basis for a few years. I thought it would be easier for him to say writer, since write was the most commonly used word in class. Promptly he replied, Old engineer and matched his words with a wobbly walk and hunched shoulders (though my father had a straight bearing).
After my father expired, my mother came to stay with us for a while. When I got an offer to teach communication skills in a company in the evenings, I agreed since my mother could take care of my son. Then I decided to learn Dutch.
One Saturday, he saw me getting ready to go out.
Amma, where are you going?
To help someone decide whether he can renovate his old building or if he has to demolish it.
Because you are an engineer?Yes.
Amma, where are you going?To learn Dutch.
Are you a student like me?
Yes, little one.
Another evening. Usual question. Another answer.
Are you a teacher like Esther Miss? Yes, again.
I gloated secretly that my son would be very happy to have such a mother who could do so many things.
Then we moved to an apartment. Friday evening, kids came to call the new boy to play. Thinking, Id rest when he went to play, I closed my eyes. Then I heard the conversation.
What is your mother doing?She is sleepingIs she a sleeper?br>I saw her typing one day. Is she a typewriter? Typewriter? Oh! She must have meant typist.
With bated breath, I waited to hear my sons answer.As casual as can be, he said, My mother is a nothing>Sigh Out of the mouths of babes