The Scattering of Rice

I’m on all fours wiping the ricey mess beneath the highchair when my mother and me look at each other and ask, “Where’s baby A?”

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I look around, she’s not there. I look in the family room, she’s not there either. Not in the kitchen. My mind clicks and I rush to the stairs. She is almost at the second floor, at the top of 20+ little nonstop steps, she is a light pink blur.

She hasn’t reached safety aka the second floor yet, but is rather in the perilous wobbly stage where if she gets distracted as babies are wont to do, she could easily fall.

I have two options, I can either run up to get her, in which she may think is a game, turn to smile in which a turning may induce falling. Secondly, I can walk up quietly and slowly to get her in which God forbid she does fall, I may be too late.

I choose the second option, and by then she is crawling away happily on the second floor as if nothing had ever happened, as if climbing stairs unattended is the normal thing to do. I do my best to usually spot her when she does climb stairs, but babies are babies and when you’re not looking for a minute, they can get up to mischief.

How quick it is to scatter rice, to clean it, and then look up and wonder where your baby is. And to be grateful that they are ok.

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“Therefore remember Me, I will remember you, And be thankful to Me, and do not be ungrateful to Me.” (Quran 2:152).

 

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