NO!

To be honest with you, up until about a week ago my son was still a virgin.

Until recently Sami thought the world was this happy, beautiful place, filled with love, excitement and exploration, food, drink, pooping and sleeping. A world, where everything was possible and accessible.  First he learned how to roll over, then – how to crawl, then – how to crawl onto the bed and down from it, walk around the furniture, and then he wanted to explore all around the house, and pull onto anything he could put his hands on. He wanted to eat the vacuum cleaner, take down the blinds, kiss Buddah and sleep on her bed.

That’s when his virgin mind, filled with nothing but hopes for an even better future had to encounter the limits of the boring adult world of rules…

The NO!

And thus we stole his innocence, shattered his garden of Eden and pulled him down to earth. He sat down abruptly, looked at us with an un-comprehending smile. We did startle him, but he had no idea what that excitement was all about. We pulled the blinds out of his hands and he automatically reached for them again. NO! It was breaking my heart. A whole world of possibilities in front of my son, a whole perception of the beauty of this world had to be shattered by this stupid little word.

One of the saddest words, really. The one that has made man the petty unhappy creature he has become. Not an animal, not a god. Just a self-imprisoning monster that cuts its own wings before they’ve even started growing.

His big smile and forgiveness hurt me even more. He was like. Ok, then, I’ll find something else to play with. And just turned around to play with his toys, leaving me in misery.

One of the first lectures you hear in the psychology classes is the one about the Self, the Id and the Super-ego. Ever since I studied Freud, I started hating the Super-ego – the master within yourself, your own “Big Brother”, the authority. I had always been a punk kid. Defiant, spiritual, spontaneous. So, as I realized what the Super-ego was, I just found my enemy.

And here I was, imposing such an enemy on Sami’s pure little mind. Of course, as a parent, it’s my duty to prepare our son for the world outside, for life is not like in Adam Sandler’s movie (Big Daddy).

That was then. Now we finally opened the baby-gate and let Sami into the world of crawling around the house. And it’s a place – not at all baby proof. Buddah’s hairs here and there, shelves, lamps, cables, computer, flowers, stairs, and even more blinds. And the two of us behind him. Like two ducklings, yelping: No No No No No!

He still has this cute little move – he stops midway through the crawling, as he hears the magic word, sits down and smiles at us. Next thing you know, he either goes on for the same thing or moves on to the next forbidden fruit. So after he can’t pull on the blinds anymore, he goes for the stairs; then – the shelves, then – the TV. And again the sit-down and the smile. But I’m sure he’s thinking. “What the hell happened to these people? One day all is great and dandy, the next I can’t even move without them shouting at me!”

How come everything he touches is always not allowed? Our choices are so limited. We’re forced to either leave him “behind bars” in his baby-proof room, or keep shouting behind him. And the third choice: take out the lamp, the table, the TV, the remotes, the plants, maybe even Buddah.

I enjoy parenting. I really do. But this is such a tough part. Cutting your kid’s own wings is a blasphemy.  I guess the only thing that lets us go through this is his everlasting big smile.

It’s like he says: Don’t worry, you guys, I forgive you. Plus I have plenty of other cool things to break. You just watch!