Tibetan Singing Bowl

So there you have it.

“Mine!”

When I opened the package and took out the wooden mallet, the bowl resonated with the exact musical intonations I had been hoping for.

The twinkle in my son’s eyes added to the magic of the moment. With a foundation of pure natural talent, he reached for the mallet and swung his little arm in perfect motion….

“Bong” sang the newest member of my bookshelf collection.

Actually, it was more like “baaaaaaahhhhhhooooonnnnnggggggg” in a humming, inviting tone for nearly a minute.

Smiles blossomed, the spiritual match ignited fires deep within, laughter filled the air.

And then I reached for the bowl…I was going to teach Micah how to make the bowl sing. Suddenly the words I had been dreading emerged effortlessly signaling the newest addition to my son’s limited vocabulary.

“MINE!”

My son can hop with both feet off the ground, climb furniture like an animal mix of part monkey and part goat, outrun two out of every three family members, and say with clear annunciation and correct pronunciation a handful of words.

First was the nonsensical babbling that only his mother seemed to understand.

Then the words “mommy” and “joe” and “bye” and “eat!” joined his limited and innocent attempts at human communication.

Now there is “Mine!”

And with “MINE” I will no longer know what it is like to have something that is mine.

It is his world and the sooner I accept that my role is merely that of jester, butler, chef, and chauffeur…the greater my chances of reaching my destination upon the road less traveled; the proverbial eightfold path.

Did I mention I just got a Tibetan singing bowl?

He is my Buddha and I love him.

And the bowl is not “mine” it is his!