golden slumbers: September 2008

Alfie, I apologize that I was mad at you.

You are sleeping now. I am busy reading and sending short messages regarding the Eid Day. When you grow up, you'll understand what that is, the SMS, the Eid Day. But that's beside the point now. I just want to explain that what I did to you, slapping your wrist, was not cool. And I'm sorry. Even more so, as I am watching you sleeping so peacefully.

Once ago, I don't remember exactly when, I told myself that I would follow your grandpa's way: never punish his children physically. I guess I failed today. Yet, to make me feel better, I insisted that it was just the slap-on-the-wrist slap on the wrist. You, on the other hand, were surprised nevertheless and cried "Papa, that hurts!". I admit I was being a bad father who lost his temper. Maybe it was the nanny's absence that made me exhausted and in turn loosing my cool. Maybe it was the culmination of a series: you drew pictures on table, you almost broke a glass plate, you poured water into my laptop. All those finally led to the slap as you were yelling so loudly just an inch from your sleeping baby brother's ear.

While admittedly, these are probably your happiest days: free from the nanny and spending all time with your otherwise office-working parents. You had probably looking forward to a time like this when you could see your papa and mama every minute and second. When you could ask him or her to read any story you like. Or simply to show them how advance you were as a two year old. You, in other words, deserve to be spoiled this week. And I blew it.

I am sorry for two counts. First, for slapping your wrist (and thus ignoring those books' advice of never-slap-your-child-just-talk-to-them). Second, for not being able to tell you my regret directly in words, even though I knew you forgave me right away; as 15 minutes afterward you asked me to read you Clifford -- which in fact amplified my guilty feeling.

So here it is. While everybody is asking forgiveness one another in the eve of the Eid Day, I tender mine especially to you. You would not give a damn to this post of course. But someday you'll read it and know that once when you were two, your father was mad at you, slapped you, then regretted it.

I'm gonna sleep next to you know. So when you woke up, I'll be there telling you what I wrote here in plain words. Of course you (and your mother for that matter) will think I'm nuts. But I'll do it anyway.