Day out at the zoo

Been wanting to bring Cavan to the zoo. Since he started walking, he likes to walk and walk. Shopping malls aren't the best places. People keep trying to get out of his way. I feel bad for them.

I was suddenly down with a cold late that morning, after preparing all the makan. Nevertheless, we made our way to the zoo to meet our friends.


Freedom!














With his friend, Bernice










Watching the monitor lizard










Riding on the fake-o giraffe













Here, the kids were more attracted to the volunteer than the hamsters in the pen. They were watching him even though he wasn't speaking nor moving at all. Guess he was more of a sight than the cute furballs.

When this boy got up, he was quite a sight. He had a face of a 14-year-old but the height of a coconut tree! Yes, I exaggerated but he's really tall!

Cavan and his Mah-mah

Cavan simply adores his Mah-mah. And rightfully, he should.

His Mah-mah had fighted much for her life so she could care for him.

When I was pregnant with Cavan at 3 months, we were informed that my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer (Stage 2-3). We were devastated. I cried for weeks and prayed like never before. Sometimes, words just failed me and I could only cried out to God.

Mom underwent chemo, radiotherapy and finally a surgery to remove her right breast in Nov 2004. After that, she went on a regular bim0nthly checks and was given clearance.

She took care of Cavan after his 1st month. Of course, her physical strength waned. But her mental and emotional strength never waivered. She lost the ability to use her right arm as it was not as strong as before. She still persisted on carrying Cavan, her marketing stuff, his stroller and showed us she could. My dad gave up his job so they could take care of Cavan together.

On Cavan's 1st birthday, my mom was diagnosed with liver cancer (Stage 4). In my heart, I asked why. But my mom never did. There is a time when everyone has to go, she believed. Hence she went about in her life as normal. I don't know whether she ever questioned why such a thing happened to her. She's been such a strong person.

Her daily joy and happiness is very much built upon Cavan. His little antics made her smile. He simply loves to snuggle up to her, teases her with his mischevious pranks and makes funny faces at her when chided.

I hope he will know what his Mah-mah had done for him despite her illness and will honour her.

75th percentile

Cavan's height had all along been 75th percentile since he was 1 month old. This means he is taller than 750 babies and shorter than 250 babies his age and gender given a sample of 1000. People ask, who does Cavan inherit his height from, since Clem and myself are not very tall (ok, I'm short). Perhaps from Clem's maternal grandpa. Quite a tall and feisty person for a 80+ year-old. Perhaps my dad, whom people say is tall as well.

What I was concerned with was that Cavan's head was also on 75th percentile. This is not news to us, as we sometimes had difficulty putting on a T-shirt for Cavan cos his head will get in the way. So we usually buy tops with buttons by the shoulder. I was concerned cos the nurse brought it up. In the past development assessments, no one had ever mentioned although on record, Cavan's head had consistently been that percentile. The nurse said if it had been consistent, then shouldn't be a cause for concern. But why did she bring it up? Should I bring Cavan for a check?

I surfed the internet for info. As the growth has not deviated from normal development and had consistently been on the same graph line, shouldn't be worried. It says that 75th percentile for head circumference coupled with higher percentile for height indicates that baby might be tall.

Well, my parents say that I have a big head too. That's true. I can't even fit into Clem's hat and some glasses are too tight for me. Cavan could get his big head from me.

Now, that's a relief.

Look, mom, no hands!

Cavan started walking more than 10 steps on his own today.

He has been walking but required our support. The only funny thing was, he only wanted us to hold one hand. If I were to hold his right hand, then Clem comes along and holds his left hand, Cavan would let go of my hand.If I try to rejoin the hand-holding and hold his hand, he would
let go of Clem's.

We were at Marina Square. I was shopping so Clem was coaching Cavan outside the store. By the time, I came out, my beaming baby was walking toward me. We were so proud of him!

We found that Cavan didn't want to be carried anymore! He just wanted to walk. And walk. And walk! Of course we didn't get to shop much cos half our time was spent trying to stop him from running into glass walls, and into other shoppers.
Guess that marked the first day of our chasing around...

Then: Tap-walking at 8-&-half mths

Then: Strutting along

Then: Cavan held by his daddy just the day before.

Happy to be on his own.









Throwing tantrums cos didn't want to be carried.







Bushed!

Growing up 

"Dar!"

That's what Clem and I call each other. And that what Cavan calls us now.

Cavan started out by calling Clem "dare dare" and me, well, anything. He started observing how Clem and I interacted and watched how I would yell "Dar!" from the room and Clem would answer from somewhere else in the house. So whenever I yelled "Dar!", he would look out of the room expectantly and looked back at me after Clem's reply.

About 2 months into the observation, he started calling us "Dar!"

My parents and in-laws were certainly amused by this reference.