Bringing up Dad

We've discovered the fountain of youth becoming a grandparent. Zenifer Khaleel watches with amazement as her father and her sons develop an unbreakable bond.

Nine years ago in a hospital ward, something happened to my dad. The man who I had always believed to be stoic and unswayed by circumstances had just turned into the equivalent of human jelly. Why? He had just set eyes on his first grandson.

With a non-stop ramble of baby talk, he picked up my first-born and an instant connection was established between them. He looked at the baby for any resemblance to him and announced that he would grow up to change all our lives. Well, he was right.

My son certainly changed my dad's life.

Very soon Junior and my father became the modern-day version of Aladdin and the genie. He had to only say something in his fractured baby talk and dad treated it as a command. The toddler got toys and candy during each visit and the wish-list kept getting longer. They played and scampered all over the house, laughed over Tom and Jerry and cried together when Junior got hurt during a cycle ride. They would even jump on the bed together to see who could bounce higher (an exercise which drove my mom mad).

Once I overheard Junior referring to me as 'the mean mother', when he was on the phone with Dad. Though I was proud of his alliteration, I felt a bit hurt. All my attempts to discipline him came to nought when Dad visited us. Particularly vexing were haircut sessions. Junior would bring the roof down with his crying. So we made the mistake of taking Dad along. We thought the presence of his 'best friend and partner in-crime' would have a soothing effect on him. But what happened was entirely hair-raising. Halfway through Junior's haircut Dad made us leave because he couldn't bear to see the apple of his eye wailing his heart out. The bemused barber graciously offered us a 50 per cent discount for the job half-done.

Then came the next learning curve for me as a mom. One fine day, Dad simply declared that children should not ever hear the word 'No'. Oh. Why was this rule not implemented when my sisters and I were young?

But who's to argue when a young boy has the entire household wrapped around his little finger?

More was to come. Four years after Junior's birth, my second son was born. Now Dad had two very good and adorable reasons to bend the rules and grow younger by the year.

Dad delights Senior and Junior (yes, the names have been changed) with stories he makes up in the spur of the moment in which they are the heroes and he is the man in distress. By the way of these tales he has introduced them to astronomy, science and religion (in small doses). Since Dad insists on watching the news on six different channels, my boys are quite agog to be a part of this. The older one returns the favour by teaching Dad how to use the internet or how to figure out the latest gadgets that come with his mobile. Once Dad called Senior for advice because he couldn't remember his password.

Truthfully, I am only too happy for this exchange programme to continue because as my boys are growing older, my Dad is growing younger.