That was the seventh time baby D rejected to swallow a spoonful of food. “Okay. Eat now!”, I said, attempting to thrust a ball of rice into baby D’s mouth while showing off my mobile phone with the other hand. The cracked screen flashed the YouTube logo exactly a second after I tapped its icon.
Baby D’s eyes appeared convinced and curious at the same time. He pursed his lips tight and tapped his tiny feet to some inside music I failed to hear. I wonder what runs in these little ones’ minds when they wait for their rhymes to be played.
Soon, a coruscating swirl of color bands rolled in and out, followed by an animated song that our whole family has been lately accustomed to, because of baby D’s love for it. The son seems to have inherited my obsession for symphonic loops. He, like me, rarely prefers to add a new rhyme to his list. As a spectator and fellow dweller, I find his habit a bit (lot) boring to stand. The music continued to reverberate, the characters played along with the rhythm, giving way to the final pattern I was anticipating since the start.
Slowly, kid immersed his senses into those peppy songs, not caring to pay even the slightest attention to the ball of carbs he was munching. Together, we accomplished our Mission Bhojanam in no time, thus sparing some good two hours of pleading, bawling and scattering of food all over the floor.
Shouldn’t I be celebrating this moment? Well, well! The brain upstairs shrieks some sort of syntactical incorrectness in the way I feed my child. Suggesting say-no-to-screen, show-the-crow, sing-a-story methods, my foot. I choose not to listen, atleast until it’s time for the next meal.