“Mom, can you make me some coffee?” my 17-year-old son asked me as he walked by the kitchen one morning last week.
Five minutes later, he offered a “Thanks” as he picked up his coffee. The next day, he thanked me for making him a smoothie after dinner. Another thanks was delivered with gratitude when I dropped him off for band practice in the evening.
Back home in India, I have never thanked my own mother for anything she has done for me, and to this day, I still don’t. To me, these constant ‘thank-yous’ were adding a layer of formality, making our interactions into a give and take of sorts. I was getting uncomfortable with these thanks.
I decided to talk to him about it.
“Where I grew up, kids don’t thank their mothers for serving them food,” I told him.
“Well, where I’m growing up, we’re taught to thank everyone who helps us,” he retorted. “What’s wrong with being thankful? Isn’t that a good thing? At least I am not taking you for granted.”
I could see how a difference in culture was impacting our thinking.
During a dinner table conversation with my cousins yesterday, I brought up this episode.
My cousin shared his insights. He said, “Yes, it is going to be different and we must be ready for it.”
He noted that in most Indian households, parents and kids are the same entity until at least the kids are married. Then he told me a story of an uncle who had moved here in the 60s. Uncle always lamented that whenever he visited his son in LA, he would be put up in a hotel. I remembered meeting the same uncle years ago and hearing the exact same complaint.
But what was interesting was the story from the Uncle’s son’s perspective, which my cousin happened to know. Uncle’s son was super proud of putting up his father in the best hotels in LA. For him, it was the perfect way to show respect and care for his father.
This story put things in perspective for me. I realized that there is going to be a difference in how we ( me and my son) look at things and that I need to understand things from his perspective.
But, the Indian mom in me wasn’t satisfied. Maybe, I could still influence him, I thought. Moreover, I didn’t want to live with the regret of not letting him know how I felt. So, I brought it up again. I asked him whether he would like to be thanked for helping us out when we are old and need his help and support. At first, he refused to answer the question. And then said that the question did not make sense.
Today, when he asked me for warm milk to soothe a sore throat, he declared “I am not going to thank you for it”. And he indeed did not!