Open, Close; On, Off; In, Out

My Dear Son,

It’s rather difficult keeping the place tidy these days because this is what’s been keeping you busy:


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And this is still very mild. It looked like it had rained nappies in your room the other day as you scattered all your nappies around your room. Your Dad tidied up before I could snap a photo. These days I just pick up after you once a day, near bedtime, unless I absolutely can’t handle everything lying around. But then you typically just go and design another beautiful creation and another and another.

Onto more fun things…

You can open drawers now, hence the clothes lying all over.
You love opening and closing doors, and you love switches. Both of which I have to hold you up for, and you don’t get tired of it. Open, close, open, close.  On, off, on, off.

You can shake hands and take five. You know where your nose is, your (one) ear, your mouth, your eyes. Alhamdulilah. When you walk, you tend to hum. Your Dad also does this sometimes. I think you picked it up from him somehow. The last few days I’ve been hearing you chiming “baa, taa, taa, baa…” (an attempt at the Arabic alphabet that I’ve been playing for you and singing for you).

When you want “Mommy and me” time you simply walk to your room and sit on your bed, and that’s my cue to follow you. Also, when you’re tired we tell you to go to your room and you go. Ma shaa Allah. You wait a few minutes for me and if I don’t come to make you sleep, you go back and call me.

It’s the phase of climbing… Climbing in cupboards,  climbing on beds, climbing in and out of your pram (though you haven’t yet mastered the climbing out part), trying to climb out of your feeding chair. I’m back to square one as far as going to the bathroom is concerned. I can’t use the toilet in peace anymore because you’re constantly standing in your pram and trying to get yourself out. The seatbelt doesn’t secure you properly because you’re too thin so you swiftly just get yourself out of the seatbelt and proudly stand in your pram. I’m constantly afraid you might fall. May Allah, The All-Seer, protect you always. Ameen.

These days I no longer put you in your pram when I perform salah. Clearly that just doesn’t work anymore. So now I just let you be while I perform salah. You roam around me, play with your toys, sit in front of me, behind me, next to me, on me, climb my back, pull my nose, pull my burqa, pull my tahiyat finger, try to play “Where’s he? Where’s he?” with me. You’re mostly well-behaved though. Alhamdulilah, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. It’s actually quite nice, especially at the end of my salah, when you come and sit in my lap as I recite tahiyat or after salaam, as I recite dua, and you raise your hands in dua as well. Ma shaa Allah. I think what shifted my attitude to performing salah with you in my salah space was hearing about the details of the Prophet (pbuh) around children and how he carried his grandchildren while leading salah. Alhamdulilah, you lead me to good things and teach me new things even as you grow into your toddler years.

May the Ever Merciful guide, protect and watch over you always, my baby. Ameen.

With love,


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