Picking up Gogi Bear

Dear Gogi Bear,

As a new parent, for me, one of the most endearing images of you is when, as a 2 feet something bundle of love, you looked up to me with sleepy eyes, innocence written all over, arms outstretched, and said for the first time in the sweetest voice I have ever heard, "Baba, gogi!" which meant that you were asking to be picked up either because you felt unsafe, or scared, or sleepy, or plain in need of some love or human touch.

Let me explain for the uninitiated: "godi" ("गोदी") is Hindi for "pick me up and carry me" (loosely translated for this context). But you have always pronounced it as "gogi", which has made it even more tempting for me to gather you in my arms and cradle you, with your tiny, soft, podgy arms going around my neck and your legs holding on to my belly like a monkey infant clings to her mother, as you burrow your tiny head of curly hair into the crook of my neck. The word coming from your baby lips had a heart-melting quality that few other sounds have.

So, the "Baba, gogi" entreaty was guaranteed (calculated? thanks, evolution!) to be heeded every single time, as an automatic protective reflex, and you were sure that you'd get what you wanted. That's how you got the name, "Gogi Bear".

Soon, in another 5 weeks, you will turn 5, and perhaps a little heavy for your old Baba to pick up and cradle like before.

No no. Wait a minute! Don't make "that" face. Hear me out, lest you misunderstand it to mean that I would never pick you up again.

Allow me to explain: It just means that your Baba has to begin working out once again and focus on some strength training. Because your Baba has promised you long ago, when you were still in your Mamma's tummy, that he's never ever not picking you up when you need him to. Not as long as he's alive.

Which brings me to the training I have been putting you through since the day you were born. You see, your Baba is 46 (yes, on the very same day you'll turn 5, he'll turn 47) and to be honest, while he was thrilled when you came on the day he turned 42 (what are the chances, eh? But with a number like 42, I'd say it is possible even if there's an infinite improbability! h/t H2G2 by DNA), both you and I need to acknowledge that there will surely come a day, perhaps sooner in your life than most of your friends', when you'll need to pick yourself up without Baba's help. And that is the day I have been preparing you for, at least since 28 August 2014, the day I laid my eyes on you, lying on the green scrub, looking like someone who didn't even need to say "Baba, gogi" to be picked up and cuddled!

Kym, my little Gogi Bear...you are the most beautiful and precious birthday gift I have or could ever receive, and I am thankful to Mamma Bear (Natasha) for giving me something no one can top. Ever. And while I wish I could hold on to you forever, I am sure a time will come when you yourself would want to leave. To spread your wings. To fly. To soar.

That day, you would stop saying, "Baba, gogi" and you'd think I'd be at least a little sad that I would never again have the pleasure of swooping you up in my arms and cradling you like the Baba Bear you see me as.

On the contrary, Kym. On the contrary. I will in fact be the happiest dad alive on that day.

And no, you won't understand it then. But one day, hopefully, you will. That will be the day when you look down upon your own Gogi Bear as she lifts her arms and asks you to pick her up. I hope you can do so until she stops asking, like I plan to. Like your grandfather before you did to me. Like, I am sure, his father did to him.

It's just one of those things you pay forward automatically. Don't worry if you don't get it. You don't have to. It'll come when it must. In the meanwhile, remember that Baba will always extend his arms to pick you up when you look up,  raise yours, and ask for "gogi". The strength required to do so is something all Babas are filled with on the day they know they are going to be a father.

With the greatest love a human can have for another human,

Your Baba Bear.