NothingPerSonal

Today I saw a young mother with two tiny children.

One was in a pram.

The other must have been around three or four, playing with a ball nearby.

He kept trying to get his mother’s attention.

Nothing dramatic.

Just the kind of silly little things children do when they desperately want you to look at them.

He threw the ball. Kicked it. Ran after it.

Did something else.

And after almost every little action came the same call…

‘Mama’.

Again. And again. And again.

His mother was on the phone.

She looked completely involved in the conversation and at least from where I was standing, almost oblivious to the fact that he was calling out to her.

For a moment, I felt bad for him.

And then I immediately corrected myself.

Because I knew absolutely nothing about that mother.

Maybe that was the only ten minutes she had managed to get to herself all day.

Maybe it was an important call.

Maybe she had been entertaining, feeding, cleaning, chasing and carrying two small children since morning and simply needed to finish one conversation.

Maybe it was work.

Maybe family.

Maybe something urgent.

It could have been anything.

So this is not about judging her.

But watching that little boy kept making me think.

Children ask for our attention in such simple ways.

‘Look at me’.

‘Watch this’.

‘See what I can do’.

‘Come play’.

And most of what they want to show us is, objectively, completely ordinary.

A ball they kicked.

A drawing that looks nothing like what they claim it is.

A jump.

A funny face.

Something they found on the ground.

But to them, it is important because they did it.

And the person they love is there to see it.

That little scene took me back to childhood.

Life seemed simpler then.

Or perhaps it only looks simpler from this side of it.

Our parents were tired too. They had responsibilities. Jobs. Homes to run. Money to worry about. Their own problems we probably knew nothing about.

And yet, when I think back, I remember talking. So much talking. Telling my parents stories that probably had absolutely no point.

Talking about school. Friends. Something somebody said. Something funny that happened. Some tiny achievement that felt enormous at the time.

And somehow, they listened.

At least that is how I remember it.

What surprised me today was that I can still remember incidents from when I was very young.

Not necessarily big occasions. Small things. Being somewhere with my parents. Playing. Talking. Laughing. Knowing they were around.

Which made me wonder about this little boy.

Years from now, if this afternoon somehow remains in his memory, what will it look like?

Will he remember that he was outside playing with his mother nearby?

Will it become one of those warm, ordinary childhood memories?

Or will some tiny part of him remember calling ‘Mama’ again and again and not being heard?

Maybe he will remember nothing at all.

Most likely, he won’t.

But it made me think about how childhood memories are actually made.

We spend so much effort creating experiences for children.

Holidays. Birthday parties. Activities. Classes. Photographs. Days out.

And perhaps what they remember most is something much simpler.

Who looked up when they called.

Who laughed at the silly thing.

Who watched the kick.

Who listened to the story they had already told three times.

Technology has made our lives easier in so many ways.

But it has also made it possible for us to be physically beside someone and mentally somewhere completely different.

And children probably notice that more than we realise.

Again, this is not about that mother.

I saw a few minutes of her day.

I know nothing about the twenty-three hours and fifty minutes around it.

It is really about what watching her made me ask myself.

How often are we present without really being present?

How many ‘Mamas’, ‘Papas’, ‘listen to this’ , ‘look at me’ and ‘just one minute’ are happening around us while our attention is somewhere else?

We cannot look up every single time.

We cannot always stop what we are doing.

And children also need to learn that the world does not pause whenever they call.

But perhaps every now and then, we can.

Because childhood is full of moments that look completely insignificant while they are happening.

And somehow, years later, those are often the ones that remain.

Maybe children will forget the toy we bought.

The expensive holiday.

The carefully planned outing.

But they may remember the feeling of saying,

‘Mama, look!’ and seeing her look….because childhood is watching.