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I was pleasantly surprised at how a cacophonous Nibbles was suddenly calm and content in Big Byte’s arms. Must be a special father-son thing, an unspoken language of trust and love, an…ack! It was the damn TV, in all its brighlty pixelated glory.

NP: “Oye! Are you letting him watch TV? And…wtf! You’re letting him watch that? (glares disapprovingly at satin-stockinged leg beckoning random dude)

BB: “Relax yaar! He’s not watching it; he just likes the light and colors. Besides, it’s not what you think. That leg is Shahrukh Khan’s.”

NP: “What??? That’s worse. Now he’ll be scarred for life.”

BB: “Why worse? I thought you were all for gay rights, supporting sexual choices etc.?”

NP: ” Bu..but – of course I am. It’s just that I, uh…” (greps feverishly for adequately PC response) “Ah screw it! you win.”

It’s true. I’d always said that I’d not only be supportive of my gay child, but encouraging. I’d even offered to adopt the unborn gay children of all my homophobic friends (thankfully, there aren’t too many of them). But now that I’m a parent,  are my bigoted, old-fashioned notions that were buried after years of caffeinated all-nighters and deliberate unlearning resurfacing?.

Nibbles is 4 months old today and my idea of parenting is hazy at best. I seem to have strong, stubborn opinions on every topic ranging from Mac Donald’s to pansexuality, but it’s often insubstantiated fluff. I think the problem is that I don’t have guiding principles, an underlying philosophy, a theory of everything. Perhaps it’s a function of my refusal to label anything right/wrong, good/bad, moral/immoral, and my need to constantly mutate my ideals.

How can I teach Nibbles anything when I don’t have the cheat-sheet myself? What if my hypotheses are grave misunderstandings? Are half-baked views better than relying on a child’s – no an infant’s ability to rationalize his way to the right solution? But wait, there’s no right solution. And is a rational conclusion really what matters?

Ah well, the present is now. I may not be sure of much, but I’m defnitely past the point when I can decide if I’m mom-material. That’s one less choice I have to make. So it’s about time I summoned my mommyness and learned to trust my instincts  instead of the trinity of Spock, Sears and Google.