It’s Ramadan again, the first year that all three of my awesome mini-humans are fasting. They’re super-stars at Suhoor, and they’ve collaboratively cooked eggs for themselves the past three in a row.
Khalid is 13. (OMG) Iman is 11, Musfira will be turning 8 next month. It baffles and delights me when they cook and work together. Also, they make me coffee, which is possibly one of my crowning achievements as a mother. Khalid brews black drip coffee. Iman makes me lattes. Musfira is the local expert on the Nespresso machine and make both cappuccino with frothed heavy cream, or espresso shots with a smidge of agave, just the way momma likes it.
Unexpectedly last week though, a cup of coffee tipped on the counter and Musfira got splashed by it. Alhamdulillah, it wasn’t scaldingly hot, and while she was crying and in pain, she had no real injury. It was a huge relief that she was ok, Alhamdulillah.
Sometimes I wonder how children graduate into knife-wielding, fire-starting, car-driving adults. I see my own kids handling responsibility, and I am proud of them but always slightly nervous. I suppose it comes with the parenting territory. If I wasn’t concerned for my kids’ safety there might be something wrong with me.
(Well, other than all the other stuff wrong with me. Ha!)
So yeah. My kids are awesome. (Hi kids!) They’re becoming more and more independent and more determined to fast and I am very proud of them. Even if in the last fifteen minutes before Iftar, certain children ask me what time it is EVERY SINGLE MINUTE.
(You know who you are. Look at the clock!)