What Happens Inside the Baby Room?

_{A Note, A Smile, and A Thoughtful Heart}

What did you notice in this image? The name of the medicine, which is written in Urdu, or this cute little green note that my daughter attached to it?

The note reads:

"I found this in the trunk, it looks new but check if it's safe to take. It was in the baby -room trunk and has probably been there since we moved here."

It was signed by her at the end.

In the morning, when I got up for school errands, I found this note on the kitchen counter. I read it and smiled my widest smile...

Why?

For many reasons.

But the most… hmmm… beautiful reason? "Baby room."

No, there’s no baby in the picture. My youngest is eleven now.

So, a baby room with no babies? Yep, that’s exactly what we have!

Well, they will always be babies to me, just not to the world.

When they were really little, I had set up a room for them. They used to sleep with us, but their toys, things, art supplies, playdough, and slimes all stayed in that baby room. Even back then, they weren’t exactly babies. But I liked calling their room the baby room... Hence the name. And somehow, despite all the house moves, despite it now resembling a full-fledged girls' room (with my son having long since claimed his own space, except when my in-laws visit), the name never changed.

All three of them still call this shared room the "baby room," and I have never corrected them. I like it...

And the second reason I smiled in the morning was this thoughtful little message from my sweet daughter. Have I raised them right? I ask myself this all the time. Amidst all the doubts, the mishaps, and the glorious chaos of life, they keep proving that, at the very least, they’re growing into kind human beings.

My girls never judge people; in fact, they make it a point not to. They are always kind to our house help and never indulge in gossip...

My son... The other day, his grandfather—completely unaware of the sacredness of a Pokémon collection—decided to use three of my son's prized Pokémon cards to balance a wobbly side table.

He came to me, deeply upset, and told me the whole story. But not once did he go and complain to his grandfather.

_{Pokémon cards after being ironed}

After his grandfather left, he carefully retrieved the cards from under the table. They were, of course, damaged. He tried to straighten them. He even ironed them (yes, ironed them!) before slipping them back into his collection.

I told him he should have said something. He could have respectfully asked his grandfather to use literally anything else as a table shim.

He shrugged and said, "No, Mama. That would have made Dada Ji feel bad. I didn’t want to embarrass him..."

At his age, that level of compassion? That one response won my heart.

Good and bad exist in all of us. But kindness? Consideration? The ability to put someone else’s feelings above your own? That’s rare. That’s precious. That’s everything.

So I cherish these moments. I celebrate them.

And happiness, like this, feels even more special when shared. Hence, today’s simple diary entry.

In the end, life is just a collection of these tiny, beautiful moments… the kind that make you smile, the kind that make your heart full.