What a gift it is — to be shaping a life, while being shaped in return.
Nap times have quietly become our time for discovery.
Like this little chap’s obsession with torches — he may not know how to pull up his pants yet, but the moment he gets his tiny paws on my phone, he can switch on the flashlight with remarkable precision.
After our recent visit to the planetarium, we’ve started building our own makeshift one under the comforter. Today, he played in it by himself with a torch. I usually let him explore alone — there’s something magical about watching a child create their own universe. I only joined when it felt time to help him wind down.
“There’s something magical about watching a child create their own universe.”
What I walked into instead was a full-blown shadow play. His little hand went up, casting a silhouette on the ceiling. Then he asked me to put up my hand. Then his foot. And naturally, I had to raise mine too. So there we were — both of us on the bed, legs in the air, watching our feet dance across the ceiling.
A workout before a nap — who would’ve thought?
He’s adopted my collection of teddy bears and renamed them after himself and his cousins — the ones closest to his age. His favourite is a tiny one he carries around like a baby, lovingly named after his younger cousin. He calls her his betu.
(Beta is Hindi for “son.” We sometimes call him Betu, and now he’s paying it forward.)
“When I try patting him to sleep, I see him gently patting his betu in turn.”
This tiny child, only three, carries a kind soul and a generous heart. He fills mine with more love than I thought possible.
Last week, on two different days, I had meetings during nap time. When he refused to sleep, I told him, “Bua is setting an alarm. You need to rest before the alarm rings — when my meeting starts.”
Today, he asked me, “Is there an alarm today? A meeting?”
I said, “No alarm and no meeting.”
“We think little kids will interrupt our work, but they are far more adjusting and sensitive than we give them credit for.”
He’s fast asleep now, while I sit here writing this — trying to hold onto the wonder of our nap-time rituals.
What fills me with the most gratitude is recognising that I haven’t just witnessed this unfolding — I’ve helped nurture it.
There’s something quietly profound about these everyday miracles:
The moment he figured out the torch.
The tenderness with which he cares for his teddy.
The way he processes my work routines and offers me space.
“I’m not just watching him grow — I’m growing too.”
He’s learning what love looks like.
What patience feels like.
What it means to be truly seen and heard.
And I’m re-learning wonder.
The art of presence.
How generosity of spirit lives in the smallest gestures.
“The child is father of the man.” — Wordsworth
In these quiet, sacred moments — shadow puppets on the ceiling, gentle patting, whispered conversations about meetings — we are both teaching and learning.
“This is a mutual relationship. A quiet collaboration. A dance of becoming.”
Children are not empty vessels waiting to be filled with adult wisdom.
They are complete human beings — with insights, with empathy, with their own way of making sense of the world.
What a rare and precious thing it is to be entrusted with someone’s becoming.
And to let them shape you, too.
—
This post was previously published on medium.com.
Love relationships? We promise to have a good one with your inbox.
Subcribe to get 3x weekly dating and relationship advice.
Did you know? We have 8 publications on Medium. Join us there!
***
–
Photo credit: Will Francis on Unsplash
