Blogging for kids

Vesper has been reading my blog recently (yeah, this one). She chanced upon it when she was googling her name or her siblings’. (Horrors! Exposed to the internet at a young age of 7.5 years old) She was amused by my musings and most of all, what I thought of them kids. 

Yesterday, she asked if she could have her own blog. 

What do you want to write about, I asked. 

She wanted to talk about the pesky boys in her class. 

Oh no no, you don’t go complaining about people or write nasty stuff about people. It’s the internet, baby. Anyone can read what you write. 

Unless, I added, you make your blog private. 

She raised her brows, then no one can read except myself?

I gave the affirmative reply. 

Then what’s the point of having the blog if no one can read it? I might as well keep a diary book! She exclaimed in mock frustration. 

She got the point. And understood well both the appeal and the responsibility of posting on the internet. 

I’m more surprised by what a millennial she is- wanting people out there to read her blog! A scary thought too at how she was already wanting to connect with the online community, whatever dangers lurk out there. 

"Spend time with me"

Vesper is vocal about what she wants and is not embarrassed to ask for it. One of the requests she makes mostly of me is to spend time with her. 

I was able to do a lot that when i wasn't working- send her to and fro school (and enjoying the chats during the journey), having lunch together, prac piano/ spelling/ 听写, reading books, going to the playground, swimming etc. 

Now that i started working, the time is divided among her and the other 2. Especially when primary school demanded more time from me, my time with Vesper lessened. 

The best I could do was to lie with her before bedtime, chit chat and tell stories. To me, i fulfilled "spending time" with her.

But to her, it wasn't. 

Her frequent grouse is that i don't soend time with her. But didn't i lie down with you, tell you stories blah blah blah. I retorted. 

Not counted, came the grumble and she would get angry with me and stopped talking to me. 

I was at a loss so i sought my counsel- clem. 

Aha, he said, u must know what spending time to her means. 

Aiyo, why this gal extra demanding. Ok ok for world peace, i will do just that. 

So i must play her fav games with her e.g. Sophia the first monopoly, code breaker etc. 

One night, i specially called out to her n said let't play code breaker together! And we had a wonderful time. 

Two days later, she got angry with me again for the same reason n i jumped to my own defence, i just played with you two nights ago! No you didn't! Yes i did!

Anyway, no guesses on who lost in the end- me. You have such a bad memory! I sulked. 

I turned to my counsel again. 

Aha, when u do spend time with her, u must tell her u r spending time with her. Then it will register. 

So troublesome this gal. 

Today, i had the whole day of being with her. Just the two of us. 

After she was done spelling and stuff, i asked if she'd like to play. And left it totally to her to decide. 

And we played most of the games she likes. 

In between, i kept asking. Is it great that mummy is spending time with you? Yes, she smiled happily. And kept coming to my side to hug me. 

I hope i've redeemed myself. And must be mindful to "spend time" with her, according to her definition. And while i do that, must reinforce that i'm doing what i'm doing. A lot of management communication principles:

First, tell people what you r going to do. 

Next, do it. 

When you r doing it, tell people yiu r doing it. 

After you have done it, tell people u did it.

Practising on my youngest key stakeholder. 

Will she remember tomorrow? 

Recycling ang baos

Every year nearing CNY, it would be a mad rush to get cash for ang bao and we only packed ang baos on 初一 itself. 

Now with time on my hands, i decided to go through the stash accumulated over the years for we were too busy (or lazy!) to bank in the kids' ang bao money. 

What we'd do is to just transfer $$ to their bank accounts. Then we will "re-use" the $2 / $10 notes for following year's angbao. No need to queue up! I know, we will lose interest earned but in the name of convenience!

There were unopened ang baos from previous years! Ok, to add these to existing stack and divide among the 3 kids. I dun bother with which is whose. Afterall, they receive from same people so should have same amount right??

Found these ang baos given by hubby which i hadn't opened. Suddenly feeling richer! Woohoo! Cheap thrills of a new SAHM. Now no regular income, sudden discoveries like this is like windfall! 💵💵💰💰

And found this from my darling son. He has no money to give then but gave this to bless me. Such a sweetheart 😍

friends

At their young age, we can already see how our kids develop friendship and what matters to them. Cavan and Verity are completely different in their approach to making friends.

Cavan thrives on having many friends. His teachers say that once he reaches school, friends start to call out to him. On the school bus, children will compete to sit next to him.

And he is also a loyal and forgiving friend. When he was in Nursery 2, there was a boy B, who said hurtful things to him. Once I saw B and remarked, "Your friend, B, fat fat one ah." Cavan got indignant and retorted, "You can't say such rude things about other people." "I thought you didn't like him?" I inquired. "Still, you cannot say bad things about him!" Two years later, he told me that B had become better and not so naughty anymore.

He has another friend, who was also abusive towards him. And he gets hurt easily. I was angry with Cavan cos he still wanted to be friends despite being emotionally and physically hurt by this person. Why subject yourself to so much pain? You're asking for it.

But Cavan believes in forgiveness and believes that every person will change for the better. Whenever we arrange for them to play, Cavan would pray that he will not be hurt and that the friend will be good. Whenever he gets hurt again, he'll cry and get very upset. But in the end, he'll always say, "I forgive him." And he does notice if the person has improved. He will report to me and say that so-and-so is now a good boy, so on and so forth.

I have such an angel for a son.

Verity, on the other hand, is highly selective when it comes to friends. She is happy just to have one best friend, K. All other people do not matter.

She was at a ballet class and this girl kept calling out to her. But Verity ignored her. I asked Verity why she ignored this girl. Weren't they from the same ballet class? Verity replied that her friend is K.

When K is around, Verity will not pay much attention to other friends and sticks to K like glue. I am always amused how Verity and K will hug and kiss each other non-stop whenever they are together. To the point of being disruptive. Cos they spend more time hugging and kissing each other.

Once, in the ballet class, I asked Clem to peep into the class. He said that the children were doing their exercises around the classroom and when suddenly Verity and K bumped into each other. Then they started giggling and hugging each other and totally disregard the class activity.

In school, the same thing. Her nursery teacher shared that Verity and K will talk non-stop to each other. And Verity only talked to K. She wanted to help them build healthy relationship with others as well so she separated them in different groups and they were no longer partners. Both gals went home and "complained" to their mommies that they were very sad because of this.

Of course, it's so sweet to see her so pally with her BFF. I really pray that their friendship will blossom till teens, till adulthood. At the same time, I also worry about her social life. I mean, her BFF will make other friends and she simply doesn't care about having other friends. I worry she ends up being alone and lonely.

Sometimes, she gets very sullen for no apparent reason and says that no one plays with her. I told her that she has to learn to play with others and not get angry and sulk when her friend is not around. I pray that when she grows up and mature, she will learn to make good friends.

Here they are, my two bubbies, so different when it comes to making friends. One a popular one, the other a highly selective one.

But both, very loyal.

Little Fashionista

Verity's sense of fashion became apparent before she even turned 2. Then she was already dictating what she wanted to wear. Going out became a constant battle as we argued about what she could and could not wear. Of course, she could wear whatever she liked but dear mommy here has internal rules about what clothes were appropriate for, say, going to the market or going to church.

Then again, it was cute to see what matches she came up with. I must say she is really creative and manages to pull stuff off.

One day, she decided to wear the skirt and complete the look with swimming cap and lego tunnel pieces as bangles.

She decided to put on this ensemble and voila! Rock Star look.

Again, her ensemble complete with Miss Lala glasses and bear necklace for a 80's disco look

She decided that Pooh's clothes look better on her as a vest

New ways to wear hairbands! As belts! There are two here: a lacy one and a bead one.

Nowadays, her tastes are more upmarket. She demands to wear dresses whenever she goes. Even to the wet market. And with her glittery nice shoes. Of course, I said no, wear shorts and slippers. Again another tussle. You just can't win.

She thinks pants are ugly and often asks us to make her pretty whenever we put on clothes for her.

Her high standards are not confined to herself. She also gives her assessment readily on others. "That auntie quite nice but a bit not nice." Why? "She doesn't have nail polish."

Ok, our little fashionista here is a perfectionist. Must complete the look.

Just yesterday, she found fault with her look. "I want to colour my hair."

Clement and I were shocked. What a thing to ask from a 3.5 year-old.

"Black is not nice." So what colour do you want? "I want to colour my hair pink. Maybe with a bit of yellow."

I am a little worried. For her age, she already places so much emphasis on appearance. Would she ask for plastic surgery when she grows up?

Lefty

Not sure if it's official, but Verity is a lefty.

We only noticed it when she went to Nursery One last year. Before that, we didn't pay much attention to which hand she used in her daily life like feeding, colouring or throwing.

Only when she went to school and did more writing and colouring that we realised she tended to use her left hand.

Thinking that there is a "right" way, I switched her to using her right hand. Afterall, kids at this age are malleable. Can train and change easily.

So I thought.

But it didn't seem "right". She applied weak strokes. I thought it was her terrible twos acting out. I became stricter and demanded her to be serious in her work. It didn't occur to me that was her weak hand.

During the parent-teacher meeting, I raised this concern to her teacher. Ms Grace was aware of Verity's preference. In class, she did not dictate which hand the child would use as at this stage the child would begin to seek out their stronger hand and preference. She told us that Verity wrote and coloured more steadily using her left hand. In any case, she asked us to decide whether we wanted Verity to switch to right hand so the teachers could also be consistent in guiding her at school.

We stopped dictating which hand Verity should use and observed her preference. She was at this awkward stage where she was caught between her natural dexterity and "social norm". So it might have somewhat become a hurdle to her as she wasn't sure which hand she should use.

As a result, she would sometimes claim that she didn't know how to scoop soup or rice. Again, it only occurred to me recently that she was fearing spillage as I was strict about mess. Nancy would encourage her to use her "strong" hand. I took the cue from Nancy. I no longer refer to "right" or "left" hand but "strong" hand.

Not using her right hand doesn't make it wrong.

I had to remind myself to be more aware of her situation and development needs and focus less on performance. I should help build up her confidence in performing tasks using her strong hand.

It was a little awkward for me as she would ask me to hold her hand to write. So I wrote in my best possible strokes using my left hand.

I have to remember to be patient if her movement using the computer mouse was not smooth and when she kept clicking on the right button instead of the left. (The mouse is designed for right handers!)

I have to remember to be patient when she cuts using scissors and her paper always ends up between the blades uncut. (Scissors are designed for right handers too!)

I have to understand that when she writes, the ink will smudge as her left hand would move from left to right. It's nothing to do with her untidiness.

My focus and perspective have changed. I have learnt to be more supportive as life skills may not come as easily for Verity, given that most equipments and instruments are designed for right handers.

Patience is a virtue I most lacked and through my daughter, I will learn to develop.

Ah, lessons God gives us through children.

Appetites

Inconsistency at the dining table. I had to ask one to eat slowly and the other to eat quickly.

Cavan has no problems. He gobbles up food quickly. And eats adult portion. Maybe more than adult portion. You ask him what's his favourite food and he ends up naming every edible thing.

He's always hungry. After his meal, he awaits his sister's leftovers. When Clem and I have our dinner, he requests for a bite here and there.

I told Cavan that he eats too fast, so the brain hasn't registered that he's eaten so he doesn't feel full yet. But he does say he is hungry and asks to eat something 30 - 40 min later.

Clem and I always think we got bang for our buck whenever we bring him for buffets. Especially when kids eat for free. We always snigger to ourselves that Cavan eats more than some adults and he doesn't have to pay. Cheapskate parents.

Then Verity. When she was younger, she was experimental with food. But her interest waned as she grows. She loves veg and fruits, and hates meat. (Now where did all that chubby cheeks come from?) It has become an ordeal making her eat her meals.

She plays around her bowl. Picks a grain or two. Nibble. Picks some veg. Nibble. I have to ask her to perform every step: Pick up spoon. Scoop. Feed. Chew. Swallow. 2- 3 rounds till I get really fed up and start yelling at her, threaten her or sometimes using reward to motivate. Carrot and stick, I've tried them all. But we just can't spend our time cajoling or coercing her right? Sometimes, Cavan tries to help his little sister by feeding and coaxing her. Other times, he simply hands me the ruler.

Inconsistency. I attempt to reward Verity with a cookie or chocolate if she eats fast. Then Cavan asks, how about me. I eat fast.

I told him: for you, you have to eat slower. And less.

The last thing I want is to give him more food. But how can one ever say no to a kid who wants more food?



Empty Nest Syndrome

My kids haven't even left home and I'm already feeling this. They left my room.

Actually, Clem and I had been trying for years to drive them out of our room. Blame it on me. I wanted the kids to co-sleep with us, as I wanted to spend every waking and sleeping moment with them since Clem and I work.

When I was expecting Verity in my last trimester, I drove Cavan out of our bed. Even when he slept on the floor, I already missed him.

Eventually he was supposed to sleep in his own bed in the other room when we brought baby Verity home. He did for 2-3 nights and came back to our room. Clem lamented but I was secretly pleased. The whole family was in one room again!

When I was expecting Vesper, I was serious about the kids moving out. Starting with Cavan.

We told him he has to sleep in his own room when he turns five. He didn't.

We told him he has to do it when Verity turns 3. Again he didn't.

He bargained with us and asked why not do it when he turns 10? I mentioned some of his friends and told him none of them sleep in the parents' room.

For Verity, once Cavan vacates from our room, she will take over his place. But Cavan didn't budge so she remained. We set up the baby playpen for her to sleep. It lasted for weeks then revert to original arrangement.

Cavan drew this in his school journal. Now the teachers know how we sleep

So what was the crux that made them eventually change their mind?

I had to deliver Vesper and Clem would be staying with me in the hospital.

I already prepared Cavan mentally a few days before I actually popped that he and Verity had to sleep in their room when daddy and I go to the hospital to bring Vesper.

So the night of Vesper's birth was the night they shifted. For good.

I was surprised they didn't kick a fuss but obediently carried their sleep stuff, made the beds ans settled down pretty quickly. The next day, Cavan told me that his bed was very comfortable!

Verity's transition was greater. We night toilet-trained her at the same time. A couple of days after they shifted, Clem decided to remove her night diapers and reminded her to wake up to go to the toilet if she needed to.

The 1st 2 weeks she woke Clem up to bring her to the toilet. After that she trotted to the toilet herself, switched on the button light. did her business, and trotted back sleepily.

And all this while she did not wet her bed even once. We praised her for her achievement. She was so proud the 1st thing she told her teacher upon returning to school was not about the new baby but that she didn't need to wear diapers anymore.

I would surely miss the bedtime activities at our bed, reading books, telling one another about our day, taking turns to pray and other blabber.

But it's time to grow up. For me.

School A Year Ago

Just a year ago, I wondered how Verity would take to school. While Cavan was adaptable, made friends easily and independent, Verity was more xiao jie and had people to fuss over her. I was also worried about her taking the school bus. She was barely 2.5 years old. Would she sit still on the bus? Would it be safe? Actually, I didn’t have to worry about her. I was sure Cavan would take care of her.


On their first day of school, I went to work for I would definitely be anxious. Dun think my emotions could handle it if Verity started crying. So I left it to Clem to follow them (secretly). He wanted to send the kids to school. I said no. Let Verity go through the day as-is, otherwise she would have the same expectation every day making it hard to transit.

So Clem darted in every corner so Verity would not see him.

Verity went up the school with Cavan without a fuss. We established a good-bye ritual that continued till today – hug, kiss, hi-5.

In school, Cavan held her hand and brought her to her class. Clem peeped from outside.

There were parents with their children. The children had to wash their hands before breakfast. Parents were helping their children wash and dry their hands. Verity observed and followed suit, without assistance.
During breakfast, while other children were distracted and had their parents to supervise, Verity was still eating her breakfast like a little lady, unfazzled by the surrounding chaos (and Clem still hiding well). Her steadiness persisted for weeks.
I was very proud of her. And proud of Cavan as a little guardian. Sometimes Verity cried in class and Cavan would go to her class to comfort. Teachers told us that Cavan was a good brother. He knew how to coax her and settle her.

Verity settled down in school like a big girl. Her teacher, Ms Grace, frequently gave feedback on how Verity was doing and I thanked God for nurturing teachers like her in school. Here were some things:

• Extended love and care for her friend. Verity would pat her friend’s chest when her friend was coughing

• Asked teachers and friends to pray for me and baby

• The Chinese teacher commented that Verity learnt very fast and had a very good memory. Though Verity started out with zero Chinese, she could understand and converse in Mandarin very quickly. The teachers were impressed that she remembered all the songs and dance steps, and often volunteer to sing and dance in front of the class.

• Being chatty, she would have lots to share and tell her teachers whenever she returned after the weekend.

I certainly didn’t expect it when Verity got an award. For Cavan, he received an award every year since Play Group.

When school hols started, Verity kept asking why there was no school. Tomorrow, school will start and she (and Cavan) had been looking forward to it.

So do I.

A Name for #3

For the 1st time, we already had a name for our baby even before she was born.

For Cavan, we didn't check the gender so we prepared a list of boy and gal names. Cavan was shortlisted and he had the Cavan look, so it was perfect.

The name Verity was not in the list of names when we had Cavan. I was inspired cos I knew someone named Verity and she was a sweet person. And the name was so sweet, and not a hybrid. And you can find it in a dictionary.

This time round, we decided to start early a few months ago. I polled the stakeholders and asked what name is nice for our baby. The following names came up:

Hannah - suggestor: Cavan. Not a bad name. Biblical too. Why did you choose this name, I asked. Bcos I like Hannah Montana, he said. Strike off.

Sarah - suggestor: Verity. No particular reason. But too common, I said. So, strike off.

After this came many suggestions. Eventually, Cavan the ingenious one exclaimed with a sparkle in his eyes.

"I know, I know! We combine my name and Verity's name. We call our baby Cavity!"

We laughed and ruffled his hair. He was so innocently pleased with his contribution until we told him what that meant.

We were still in search of a name, preferably starting with "V". I jokingly told Clem that since I can't have my dream scooter, Vespa, I might as well name our baby Vespa.

This name got stuck. And I was getting serious. And Clem thinks I'm being ridiculous.

Later, I remembered that there was an English word "Vesper". I checked and got the following:

1. Vesper Martini is a cocktail that was originally made of gin, vodka, and Kina Lillet.

Oops, ok, I like Martini but I don't think this is a selling point if I need to convince Clem.

2. the evening star, esp. Venus; Hesper.

3. Also called vesper bell . a bell rung at evening.

4. a) a religious service in the late afternoon or the evening.

b) the sixth of the seven canonical hours, or the service for it, occurring in the late afternoon or the evening.

c) Roman Catholic Church . a part of the office to be said in the evening by those in major orders, frequently made a public ceremony in the afternoons or evenings of Sundays and holy days.

d) evensong

5. evening

It didn't sound so bad after all. I smsed Clem that I've decided to name baby Vesper.

He: What? I'm not going to name my baby after a scooter.

I: It's not Vespa, it's Vesper

He: What does it mean?

I: It means evening

He: First, it sounds like a scooter. Now, in the dark some more. Cannot cannot, sounds like a rebel.

Grrrr... so dense!

Then one night, something happened that I was convinced it was a sign.

I was sleeping when suddenly I awoke in the middle of the night, humming a familiar tune I used to sing during my Girl Guide days. Remembering some of the words, I did a quick google and got the following result:

Scout Vespers

I should feel spooked at this time. Instead, I was elated!

I shared with Clem excitedly the morning he awoke. He was skeptical. Then I recited the lyrics to him. Meaningful right? Meaningful right? It's so reflective.

Ya ya ya, was his way of entertaining my ridiculous outburst.

Anyway, I was a good persuader and salesman so eventually he got used to the idea. I kept calling our baby Vesper, to get him into it. Clem said now the name has a nice ring to it.

I shared the name with our kids. Cavan wrinkled his nose and asked "What, it sounds like a TV show!"

Curious, I asked which show had Vesper?

"Vesper Housewives, your favourite show!"

This boy is really funny. Desperate Housewives lah, I corrected him.

Anyway, here are the lyrics to Scout Vespers.

Scout Vespers

Softly falls the light of day,
While our campfire fades away.
Silently each scout should ask:
"Have I done my daily task?
Have I kept my honor bright?
Can I guiltless sleep tonight?
Have I done and have I dared
Everything to be prepared.?"

Listen Lord, oh listen Lord,
As I whisper soft and low,
Bless my Mom and bless my Dad,
There is something they should know.
I have kept my honor bright.
The Oath and Law has been my guide.
Mom and Dad, this you should know,
Deep in my heart I love you so.

Pierced

Verity has been bugging us for earrings since she was less than 2 years old. I was hesitant as she has itchy fingers and I was afraid that she would meddle with her ear studs and hurt her earholes.

Moreover, she was always climbing about and jumping around, so the chances of hurting herself were higher.

She had to make do with toy clip-on earrings. And we would end up losing one of the pair.

In May this year, we passed by B'dazzled. Her daddy, struck by spontaneity, asked whether she wanted to pierce her ears. I was irritated and glared at him. Didn't we agree we'll do when she turns three, I muttered to him. Never mind lah, came his reply.

For Verity, once you asked, there was no turning back. She said yes! happily. I had to set her expectations. No crying, no meddling with earrings, be careful when combing hair and playing. She said yes yes yes to my naggings.

The decision was made under 3 min.

We went in and informed the lady that Verity was not yet three. The lady replied cheerfully, no problem. Her cheerfulness and mannerisms gave me the confidence that she could handle a young child.

She talked to Verity excitedly and asked her pick out her fav ear stud. Verity chose what she called "pink baby diamonds". And we were all set.

Suddenly, I had cold feet. What if they pierced one side and she started bawling and refused to do the other side? I stood outside the counter to stop myself from interfering. I was NERVOUS.

The lady was very professional. SHe asked another attendant to assist her. While speaking to Verity very kindly, she informed Verity that she was going to put "ice cream water" to her ears.

After that, she counted to three and both she and the attendant pireced Verity's ears together.

So clever, I thought.

She explained that for kids, they usually pierced two together.

All this while, Verity sat straight as a lady, without a flinch, without a cry. So cool, my baby.

Even weeks after, when there was blood on her ears, she didn't complain and didn't say a word. Not even when there was a sting or pain when we cleaned her open wound.

She took it all in a stride. Because it was a decision she made.

Letters

Since last year, Cavan was into writing letters. For Clem and me, for his friends. It's wonderful to receive letters from him as he will tell us how much he loves us.

Well, the letters to us aren't exactly letters, if you compare what he writes to his friends. For ours, he uses post-its, so I guess those are more like love notes.

For his friends, he fills up an A4-sized paper and it goes into an envelope.

Sometimes he shows us what he wrote. Sometimes he just passes to his friends directly. So we don't really know what else he conveys to his friends.

Here are a few samples I managed to snap photos of. I think they are really cute.

He wrote this in Sep 2009 when he was in Nursery 2. The recipient was a K2 gal who he chose to sit with from time to time. (According to the bus auntie, many kids want to sit with him so he gets to choose who he wants to sit with.) It happened that this gal was sick thus was unable to sit with him for fear of spreading germs.She was very kind to write a letter to explain. Here, Cavan reciprocated with a letter, affirming that he was still her friend.

The next one is more recent. Dated 29 Sep 2010. I'm really not sure if this should go to the gal. What would the parents think? Well, I figure that since many letters have passed us by without our knowledge of the contents, I'll just let him go ahead.

And this letter goes nicely into a recycled envelope. He likes it because it's colourful. And on it, he boldly claims that he is her best friend.

So, will the letters ever get him or us into a situation? Not yet a sticky one, I'd say. There was once I received an sms from a parent, responding to Cavan's request on a letter. What's it all about? More on that later.

Right now, I'm just crossing my fingers that the parents of the above recipient will not complain about harrassment.

Touched

I have been touched by my children.

Just last 2 months when Clem was overseas, I slept with the 2 kids on our bed. We usually would take turns to pray before going to sleep. It was very sweet to hear the children's prayers, as they would pray whatever came to their mind.

Cavan: Dear God, I miss Daddy. I pray he will be safe and come back soon. Lord, I pray he will not go to USA because then we cannot see Daddy. In Jesus' Name, Amen!

Verity: Dear God, I love Daddy forever the more. In Jesus' Name, Amen!

One night, Cavan got up to pee. As he returned to the bed, he actually placed the blanket over me and kissed me on my cheek. I was so filled with emotion that I reached over and gave him a hug and a kiss. Then he whispered, "I love you, mommy."

A few nights ago, I was touched by Verity. This feisty gal does not display as much affection as her brother. Cavan hugs and kisses easily. And he is always full of loving words. At most Verity would just follow suit.

That night, when it was her turn to pray, she said,

"Dear God, I pray mommy not work late and not tired. Then we can play monkey. I also pray for kor kor, that no cough and no need to eat pi par kao. In Jesus' Name, Amen!"

I was not expecting this at all. She was un-guided and used the little words she knew. But she expressed her prayer with such love and sincerity, I couldn't believe it came from a two-year-old.

I am truly amazed how at such a tender age, she understood what a prayer was and what it meant to talk to God. And she knew about putting a request before God.

From these, I could see that it was God working in their lives. His Spirit reaches the hearts of the children. Verity couldn't have understood the concept of prayer as it was an abstract action. But she was able to, because she was led by the Spirit of God.

Truly, I give thanks to God. For showing Himself through the children. As much as I am touched, I am also humbled.

meet-and-greets

I didn't understand why people bothered to queue and wait for 15-20 min shows at shopping malls, to see prancing cartoon characters on stage. You can watch from the side, can't you?

When we were dating, I told Clem there was no way I would queue up for these in future, if we had kids.

When we had Cavan, I said Clem could queue and watch the show with our kid and I'd go shopping.

I ate my words recently. Double portion.

We joined the queue and I SAT IN at the show. And I had my picture taken with Thomas and the Fat Controller.

To be honest, I was even the one who suggested it. Seeing the ads in the papers that Thomas and Friends would be staging meet-and-greet at Marina Square, my first response was, "I must bring the kids there!"

And I was the one kiasu about the whole thing. I wanted to go for the earlier session at 11am, since the kids usually wake up really early anyway. So I planned our marketing and breakfast time, so we could get to MS really early. We reached there slightly before 10am.

We hung around the stage area and never stepped outside THE ZONE. When Clem suggested we went elsewhere, I snapped and said, "What? We came all the way for the show. What if we couldn't get in the show when the queue grew?"

Half an hour before the show, the area was cordoned off and lanes were prepared for queues. There was no one queueing. Then, a pair of siblings sat at the start of the lane. I hastened Clem to join in behind them. So there he was, with Cavan at 2nd position. I was mighty pleased.

Our kiasu act prompted everyone else to follow suit. Soon, the queue snaked round and round.

We got to sit in the first row on the floor! I felt a great sense of achievement! I participated as eagerly answering trivial bits about Thomas and Friends and toot-tootering away with the audience.

As I sat at the square and saw people around, suddenly I was brought to mind those things I said before about meet-and-greets! What a change of mentality I have now...

Can't deny the fact that kids can change you. Anything we'd do to see their happy faces. All worth it!

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Father

My father told me that he fell in love with me the first moment he laid his eyes upon me after I was born. Because I looked exactly like him. Fathers are naturally proud of their daughters, what more those that resemble them.

His love was made so evidently to me throughout my growing years. And even to now, although displayed more differently now that I'm a mom. When I was little, he loved to cuddle me, tease me and see my fuming face cos that was when my mom would repeat the old mantra that my "black face" was exactly like his. I remember he loved to play with me in my semi-sleep state on weekend mornings, as he must have loved seeing my dreamy, bliss face before morphing into an irritable grouse if he were to rouse me further.

We loved to wrestle and tickle on the bed. And before long, I the loser, would start wailing and sobbing and that gave my father more reason to hug and cuddle me.

In primary school, I participated in a Chinese composition writing competition and I wrote about my father. Think I got a 2nd or 3rd prize. I would always think of my father in most occasions.

In my teenage years, my father's affection was unchanging. But I was undergoing changes as a teenager. I began to shy away from his public display of affection as I found it embarrassing. One morning, he was feeding me by mouth (he loved to share his food with me like that) at a coffeeshop and I was teased by an auntie passing by. As he held out his hand to hold mine when walking on the street, I pulled my hand away. I also stopped our cuddling acts.

 

My teenage years were also the time I witnessed my father's fiery temper. Perhaps it was stress from his work that caused him to throw his temper at home. Anyone who crossed his path during those times would be asking for trouble. Hence, I would always hide in my room during these storms and prayed fervently that I would not get into trouble. Sometimes, I would clash with him on purpose (I'm such a confrontational person) and I would see my personal things being destroyed, thrown away. Really, there were times I hated my father and wanted to leave home. But at the end of which, I would throw myself into his arms again when he simmered down and extended his arms to me.

There was one time I literally packed my bags and threatened to leave after an awful shouting match. He yelled that I had better change this nasty temper of mine. I retorted that he only changed when he was 45, I had 22 more years to go. Of course, I didn't leave home eventually as my mom begged and restrained me. And afterall, it was only a threat.

My wedding day must have been a bittersweet day for my father. His daughter would be handed over to another man. Before I left for my in-laws, he suddenly took out a pack of milk to feed me. I was embarrassed but to him, it was symbolic. It was supposedly his last time to indulge in me as from then on, another man would take over this role.

As I walked down the aisle with him, he asked me if I was nervous. Yes I was. He said he was nervous too. He kept talking to me as we walked, as if to reassure me. Being the father of the bride must not have been easy, keeping up that smile so his daughter could have the happiest day of her life.



I was giving my thanks after the wedding ceremony and I knew that I wouldn't be able to control my tears when talking about my father. I tried to prepare a speech beforehand but I couldn't, cos I would start to cry whenever I thought of my father's tender love towards me. I went impromptu on stage. I wept. My father wept. So did most of the guests.

Even after I was married and moved into our new house, he would often come over to scrub my sink and sharpen my knives. Yes, funny things he would do but acts that show his love. We still fought very badly at times and I regretted having acted the way I did.

As the children came, his public affection transferred to them. I saw less of it. Our interactions became more polite, less physical. I am more careful in my words and actions as my father is a sensitive man. I don't want to anger him as I did in the past and especially now that my mom is gone.

My father had been such a huge influence to me. Because of him, I am who I am now. Because of his affection, I didn't need to seek love from another guy and had healthy friendships with guy friends, instead of jumping from BGR to BGR. And I found a good man, because my father was the model. Because of his assurance and belief in me, I became a confident person.

True there are still ups and downs in our relationship but I am very proud of my father despite his shortcomings. I proclaimed this to him during my wedding and I would say it again:

If I could choose, I want you again as my father

I love you, pa.