The Magic Baba

For both children, their "Baba" is pure magic.

The Magic Baba takes out any pesky splinter, and can drill a box full of wood and nails into a table that fits 6 kids and a baby at a birthday party.

He guides them up dirt trails that twist around Redwoods, his cell phone silenced from Silicon Valley beckoning him back. His strong shoulders are like two mountains to carry them down when they tire.

After he gets home from a big day at work, he transforms into a big burly bear, and carries them around the house growling and reminding them to, "chokad dhela!" (hold on tight!)

He can brush two sets of teeth with the least amount of complaining and even a few giggles. Then find a bedtime book that was mysteriously missing for 3 years.

I can’t explain how he musters this kind of energy.

It must be magic.

The Magic Baba has the kind of unconditional love that doesn’t withhold during a tantrum, or when said tantrum wakes the baby.

He is fearless about feelings and teaches lessons through gentle guidance, rather than punishments and the cold shoulder.

He catches his babies in the cold morning hours and buys me tampons in the fog under a moon. He cuts watermelon in the middle of a hot afternoon to snack on during drives to city.

When I whisper in his ear on Saturday mornings, “they are driving me bats,” he’ll take them on neighborhood bike rides and I breathe in a recharging silence.

The Magic Baba can “be home in 10” when desperate text messages are sent, next to boiled over peas and two kids squabbling about who despises peas the most.

Then he sprinkles the peas into dosa and the kids gobble it down while he chats with compassion about our family and families he’s helped and families in need from Central America .

So when I see both children as strong, spirited, funny, smart, imaginative, empathetic, genuine, friendly and so much more - I know how much it has to do with The Magic Baba.

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