My three children are Khalid, Safiyyah and Az-Zubair. I feel that each of them has inherited some of what I believe part of me.My first born is Khalid, who is going to be six years old two months from now. He likes to observe things – for him: birds. Once, I took him to school and did not go with him to his room. I just left him about 20 meters from his room and told him to go ahead. Little did he know that I just want to be sure if he would go straight to his room or not, so I hid behind a tall garden. Initially, he was hesitant to go. With a firm voice, I told him that I’ll be late to work if I will still take him to his room. Reluctantly he conceded. And so I turn my back and walk a few meters and pretended to be heading to the gate. After a while I turned and saw him walking to his room. Suddenly, birds flew by and perched on a nearby playground to his left side. Startled and amazed he stopped walking and turned his attention to the birds. Throwing his bag to the ground, he stoop a bit, eyes wide, knees bended, walking slowly, hands abducted, as if ready to dive and grab the unsuspecting feathered creatures. His room which is now only about 5 meters is lost in the mist of oblivion. I started to smile and felt honestly happy. The birds eventually sensed his intention and dispersed in panic. Relentlessly, he pursued some of the birds; he is now heading towards the opposite direction, farther away from his room. I came out from my hiding and called his name with a reverberating baritone. That ended the bird-hunting saga and I went off to work with a smile on my lips. I saw that part of me in him.
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