the kids are going through a chameleon phase, and when i say chameleon phase, i’m not saying they’re creeping around, blending with the background and changing colours or anything.

it happens that i’d picked out eric carle’s ‘The Mixed-up Chameleon’ the other day and the kids just loved it; then we went to the library and found this really adorable book about a sad Blue Chameleon which we all enjoyed as well; then i found this book at popular bookshop about how Chameleons are Cool, and now i know that chameleons don’t change colours to match their surroundings but actually do so to reflect their mood (though they’re mostly grumpy). and heck, just to complete the ‘theme’, i’m almost a step away from making paper mache chameleons and finding a real life chameleon as a pet (but they live in madagascar – see, another useful trivia from a kids’ book, right there). but… that’d be bordering on obsession.

here i interrupt this story briefly to mention that auni had also, during the above-mentioned library trip, decided to insist on borrowing this malay book called ‘Musang yang Licik dengan Ayam Betina Katik’. i’d chuckled at her choice, but indulged her anyway, and when i read to them in my best impression of a storyteller on a Suria channel’s children’s programme, they were SO tickled. i figured it must be due to: (a) the words ‘licik’ and ‘katik’ (you gotta admit, they’re funny-sounding words); (b) mummy’s a great storyteller (the ghosts of cikgus past seemed to have possessed me); (c) me reading aloud a malay book is quite the novelty (maybe i should read Berita Harian aloud to them on a daily basis – but nah, that’s like reading one bad story after another…); or (d) it was a good story – well, it’s basically the same ol’ premise of cunning fox trying to outdo a hen, finally catches the hen, but hen outdoes fox, fox gets his retribution, moral of the story, the end. reaaaally mind-blowing stuff.

so back to the chameleons.

now, if you’re around my age and have grown up with 80′s pop music, the first thing that’ll pop into your head when you hear the word ‘chameleon’ would be Culture Club’s classic number one hit, ‘Karma Chameleon’. come on, ‘fess up, it was, wasn’t it??

well, i’m afraid that was also what happened with the daddy. like on auto-mode (and repeat mode), he’d go “karma karma karma karma, karma chameleonnnn…!” everytime the kids shove one of the chameleon books under his nose. of course, the kids think he’s nuts.

so, being the ever-resourceful net-savvy daddy that he is, he typed in ‘karma chameleon’ in youtube, and played the video to enlighten the kids and further immerse them in the ‘theme’. needless to say, they were quite fascinated. i mean, wouldn’t you if you were a kid and saw this?

a clown of indeterminate gender in make-up with a funny hat and psychedelic costume singing on a boat with other circus freaks! plus, hello, catchy tune? yes, they asked to repeat it a few times.

so during bedtime yesterday, after the youtube sing-a-long session, the boy asked – “mummy, what is ka-ma?” well, i said, it’s like when you do something good to someone, something good will happen to you, and if you do something bad to someone, something bad will happen to you.

and whaddaya know? he exclaimed, “OH I KNOW I KNOW! like this book, right??” and promptly dug out ‘Musang yang Licik dengan Ayam Betina Katik’ and flipped it open to this page:

for a while my jaw dropped – it totally did NOT occur to me to make that connection myself, because the context and language i’d explained the concept in was different, but yeah, i told him, dammit, he’s right. and he beamed.

looks like si ibu yang cilik licik was outdone by her anak katik after all.

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Lollipop kids with mummy, originally uploaded by izadd.

signed up for a sampler drama class at act3 for the two of them last weekend… but think i’ll stick to LW – that is, IF i decide to keep the boy at it next year. i mean, there are so many other “enrichment” classes out there we’ve not explored, and i think he’s proven to be expressive enough for any more ‘speech’ and ‘drama’…

let’s see, there’s sports (soccer? swimming?), music (drums? keyboard?), language (phonics?), and i guess what should be top priority: madrasah (*gulp*).

OR…. we could just be radical and skip the whole enrichment-programmes-on-weekend thing.

kiasu vs bochap parent? i’m still undecided.

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two and a half years, and we have her insisting she doesn’t need a pull-up for bedtime (but not before asking to pee at least three times before going to sleep!). she’s been going without in the day for three months now, but we put her to bed in them just in case, and they’ve been dry in the morning for the past few weeks, and i probably should’ve just let her go without it earlier coz it’s irresponsible to the environment and all, i mean, what DO you do with dry-but-used overnight pull-ups anyway, right?! you don’t, say… recycle a dry-but-used sanitary pad, after all. O_o

so i figure, my slight reluctance to let go of her pull-ups was for a solely sentimental reason – it’s most likely the last diapered baby bum we’d ever have. you know, all puffy and cushiony and, like j.lo’s best assets, looks SO good in tights and pants.

now, let’s hope she proves herself right in the morning…

update: aaaandd she’s dry!

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i guess i spoke too soon – “inspired” by discussions on the merits of the Peter & Jane series, i managed to persuade aniq to try it out one evening, by insisting that it’s “VERY EASY”.

it took a week of frustrations (on both sides) as we plodded through book 1a before he surprisingly picked up speed and went on to 1b.

i think one of the challenges i faced teaching the kid (other than the typically boyish playfulness and impatience) was having a younger sibling interrupt us ever so often – e.g. she’d demand for HER book to be read, or ask for a drink, or chatter on and on, or be plain mischievous and cheeky, as evident in the video below:

in any case, i have to say i feel a liiiitle bit relieved at having made actual progress in our “thorny but exciting” road to literacy.

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i’d been growing a liiiiittttle anxious that the boy is ending his K1 year and turning 5 in a few months’ time, and was still resisting our nudges to start reading independently.

sure, he knows his ABCs (occasionally mixing up the small letters ‘b’ and ‘d’, and a few others, especially when distracted – and boyyy is he easily distracted), and would randomly seek my confirmation that ‘snake’ starts with ‘s’, or ‘finger’ starts with ‘f’, or ‘Honda’ starts with ‘h’, or Toyota starts with ‘t’. (his current fascination is car brands, btw – according to him, we drive a ‘Honda e-way’, and a Beetle is a ‘Boxdragon’, which i repeatedly try to correct with the german pronunciation of ‘Volkswagen’, which in turn confuses him more since ‘V’ is ‘F’ and ‘W’ is ‘V’ in german… and his favourite car? a PROTON. gawwwwd, run me down with a Boxdragon, now!)

so anyway, i’d attempted an evergreen beginner-readers’ classic, the Peter & Jane series, which i’d read to him since he was still a crawling mass, but perhaps the too-early introduction, plus the antiquated illustrations and the stilted flow of words, did not interest him very much to pursue the perusal of Peter, Jane and their dog’s antics and adventures.

his preschool curriculum doesn’t impose spelling tests or rigourous worksheets, which i’m quite thankful for actually, coz mummy thinks he spends plenty of time in school in the day already and all she wants to do after coming home from work is play and talk and not have stressful evenings of drilling and cajoling a preschooler to “finish up his homework”, coz there’ll be a disgusting amount of years ahead yet for that. :S

having said that, i AM amazed at kids his age or younger already adept at doing spelling and math and various languages in other preschools. and VERY intimidated.

i think aniq’s reluctance to read probably has to do with a lack of confidence, of getting things wrong or from having been compared to his older cousins or friends who are already skilled readers. but a few factors are slowly helping him overcome this.

first, the sense of competitiveness he feels with his sister, who is admittedly displaying a quick grasp of language and literacy. and second, the lure of a reward….. now i KNOWWWW early childhood educators out there are probably GASPING in disapproval at this; that one should not ‘bribe’ a child to learn a skill that should be an intrinsic reward by itself, blablabla, but aww, what’s a little carrot at the end of the stick, i say? ;p oh stoppit, i DO all the other things i’m supposed to do too; bedtime stories, reading aloud, heaps of encouragement and praise, going to the library, be seen reading myself, blablabla, heyyy i’ve done the googling. but maybe some kids are just motivated… erm, differently?

in any case, this was the first book he’d agreed to read aloud in full, and it was quite an exasperating task to get him to recognise the words, what with his attention span. but after i’d video-ed him a few times, he felt more confident and let’s hope he moves on to other more, hmm, ‘exciting’ books, yes?

feel free to guess whether he memorised most, if not the entire thing, instead of actually reading the words, hehe.

oh, and so what WAS his reward?

it was on sale. (yeah, corrupt AND stingy parents. tsk.)

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(a little note: about the part on the rattlesnake, coincidentally, an episode of The Pink Panther was shown after we’d read this a few times together, where the panther accidentally stole a basket containing a baby instead of food during a picnic scene and in an effort to pacify the said baby, now crying, he’d removed the end of the rattlesnake’s tail to give to the baby as a rattle, and i guess this left such an impression with the kids that they associate it with this particular rattlesnake every time.)

(also, another note: they will inevitably ask the same question in every story with illustrations – “where’s the daddy/mummy/baby?” not sure why but there’s always a concern for the whereabouts of a missing family member in the story.)

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was discussing insurance for the girl the other day (her brother’s was done when he was two too), and our financial advisor estimated we’d need a cool $85k in 16 years time if she were to go for a local tertiary education – i mean, IF we’re fortunate enough for her to want to pursue it, that is. (well, a mom’s gotta hope.)

made me wonder how much my parent forked out for mine, coz i have NO idea. they’d split costs – mom paid for my brother’s overseas education, dad paid for my local one. and i was fortunate enough to not have to repay any student loans whatsoever either. (dear dad, thank you for giving me my education. and while i’m at it, thank you too for paying for my driving lessons. and basically, for everything you spent on me. as my brother would constantly remind me, i was a spoilt princess – still am, yeah i know. :S)

so anyway, we’d settled on a whole life and term policy thing, same as her brother’s. i don’t know, i’m generally not very good with money (seeing how i’ve not been made to handle much of it in my life growing up), and just hope that things will work out for them in the future…

meanwhile, in the present, was updated of the girl’s progress in child care (she’s in a half-day programme for now). all good things so far. she especially likes the home corner and dress up corner (oh the gurly gurl she is turning out to be), storytelling and art, conversing with friends and teachers, discovering things, always the one to help distribute others’ water bottles… and i’ll spare you of the superlative adjectives her enthusiastic teachers had for her. :p

one thing the teacher DID ask me to work on with her was fine motor skill, in particular threading work, which she, for some reason, did not like doing. i’m guessing she doesn’t have the patience yet for it, but since it seemed like another activity we could do together at home, what the heck…

and the last thing we talked about was toilet training, which we all agreed she was pretty ready for. the past few weeks, she’d cooperated on the potty before bedtime, and the previous weekend she’d woken up, walked straight to our bed and asked to pee in the toilet, so i think all that reading of Princess Polly’s Potty came to fruition after all. well, that and the fact she has her older brother to model upon, and me, whom she follows to the toilet all the time to observe. (yes, that open-door policy still stands here at izadnhana’s abode, sigh.)

and so, am happy to report that this was her third day in preschool undiapered, and doing pretty okay (minor mishaps, ie. half-accidents, notwithstanding).

so yey to less diaper wastage! (and to mother earth, sorry we didn’t get started sooner).

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it was the first time for the quasi-playgroup-teacher-wannabe mommies conducting the baking session last weekend, and all we had were basic baking ingredients and an online recipe we’d never tried before. we were each sorta assigned to take on one activity and thankfully, Is took the lead for this one.

we went for a ‘thematic approach’.

we spelled, counted, measured, talked about what the ingredients did, passed around the vanilla essence for everyone to smell….

we scooped, stirred, broke eggs, took turns, resolved conflicts…

we rolled dough, created shapes, sprinkled rainbow sprinkles and chocolate chips…

and with the smell of cookies baking in the oven, we did some storytelling… bilingually, too. :D

and of course, we tasted the fresh, warm, home-baked cookies, nevermind the dubious hygiene level of the cookie-makers, lol. they tasted pretty good, actually, despite the fact that we didn’t follow the ingredients too closely (seeing how things kept spilling).

we balanced tea time with fruits and nuts and then it was free play…

and we got hungry again at dinnertime, so we made some pizza. the little chefs were actually more interested in piling stuff on the dough than eating the final product, though they did collectively run to the oven every few seconds to peep through the oven door. so the ones who eventually ate were the adults, who also got creative and designed their own satay pizza (izad’s family are in the satay business, so it’s a staple at every function – the satay and peanut sauce are awesome.)

inspired by the success of this playgroup session, we’ve assigned the daddies to take over the next one. something less domestic and more outdoorsy… though it’d be interesting if they could conduct, oh i don’t know… origami or scrapbooking, maybe?? :p

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P1100778, originally uploaded by izadd.

had the mid-year parent-teacher-conference with aniq’s teachers last saturday. nothing much we don’t already know, really. basically that he CAN’T KEEP STILL (his hands and mouth are always moving!), very expressive, not shy, and gets along with everyone… and no, he still doesn’t read, like 75% of his class (i asked!) but recognises most alphabets (though still gets some of them mixed up). and i suppose there IS improvement in those slightly legible chicken scrawls… lol. i know i’m not supposed to worry TOO much, and shouldn’t be comparing, and he IS a december baby, so tendency to have to catch up with his cohort… but he likes schooling and learning enough to not complain or whine about it at this point, and loves getting us to read to him, so i guess that’s good enough for now. (but dammit, off to phonics class you go to, little boy…)

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it never occured to us when we got married and bought a house and had babies, that at some point in time, they would soon reach the ripe schooling age of seven and there would be the issue of registering them in a primary school.

we kinda overlooked that part, really. back then, we only had the short-term view of ensuring that our location of residence would be in close proximity to my parents, for many reasons (other than the $40k grant) – the convenience of checking in on each other, the supply of home-cooked food, the default caregiver to our kids… in short, we chose our mainly solely for the family support factor.

only in later years did we realise, there were in fact many parents who chose/moved/rented houses for the sole purpose of being in close proximity to good, reputable schools, thereby increasing their chances of placing their young child/ren in them. it was a radical jolt to my system, this piece of info. i mean, we seriously never thought about it. “like, really? people would go to such lengths?” well that just goes to show how, err, ill-prepared we were with the realities of being parents of school-going children in singapore.

so then i heard about this whole fantastical system called the Primary One Registration that had these things called phases, and it was again, another rude shock to my oyster shell. “what? there are priorities given to register kids in school OTHER than proximity?!” my mom never told me thaaaaat. (ok maybe she did but i wasn’t listening, and besides, times have changed since she retired… i think.)

all the horror stories began to fill my ears, of parents who lived across the road from a particular school but did not succeed in obtaining a place for their kid, of parents who performed volunteer work religiously yet did not get through the balloting, of HOW HARD it is to get into that particular school because it’s so reputable, neighbourhood status notwithstanding, that it’s oversubscribed every year.

i’m sure there are just as many, if not more, parents who don’t think much of primary schools, and are just boggled over the fuss in the first place. “it’s just PRIMARY school, many kids come out of normal, nondescript ones doing well too, big deal.” they’re right, of course. i admire that kind of brave confidence, actually – that their kids CAN do well no matter where they go to, that it’s only in secondary school where they’ll ‘bloom’.

my parents, for some reason, had sent me to a particular girls’ school in the east, which was, in that era, a somewhat popular one. i remember going to school together with her on the bus and watching her by the school gate as she leaves – that particular image of her still stirs in me that same sad feeling to this very day. (separation anxiety, you may call it.) and if anything, that’s testament to how powerful your emotions and experiences are in the primary years, that it stays with you throughout your life. and i guess that’s the point i’m making; i had such deep, long-lasting impressions in my formative years in primary school – of friends and teachers, and importantly, of learning (i had such excellent language teachers, and i have them to thank for planting the seed that eventually became my strength) – that those six years were the most memorable ones for me. they weren’t all necessarily good ones, but i think, important ones. (though, ironically, the one thing i still can’t fully master, despite ten freaking years in a girls’ school, is dealing with the dynamics in a group of girls, ha haha. ahem.)

in any case, i wouldn’t be able to put aniq in a girls’ school, so the parents-as-alumni priority phase is out.

i looked around and realised, while there were a few neighbourhood schools that weren’t too bad, on account of the accolades they proudly blaze on banners outside their school gates, i sorta wish for my kid to go to nicer-sounding ones, with established history and long track record, and i don’t know, knowing actual people who came out of there and had promising/successful paths, you know? i guess all that sounds superficial and unreliable as basis for my choice, because i’ve NO idea what would work for my kid, whether he’ll thrive or survive regardless of the environment, what kind of teachers he’ll get, what kind of friends he’ll be surrounded with. then of course, there’s still the matter of convenience and proximity and sheer logistics… (by now, you’d have me for the typical overthinking, worrywart of a first-time parent, and you’d be right – bah!)

for all the uncertainties, i figure, the least i could do is try to get him into a school which he could one day thank me for, one that will hopefully leave a positive influence on him, and who knows, i could create a legacy for him, some day make it easier for him when the time comes to register for his kids when they reach the ripe schooling age of seven. (forward thinking, you know.)

and because i need some sense of being in control, i chose to do the beaten path of parent volunteering, a concept i never imagined i’d embrace (just like exercising – 2010 seems to be a year of new discoveries, it would seem).

we were duly warned that there were no guarantees despite clocking in that 40 hours of PV (or more, as some have done). i’m not even sure if it’s worth doing it, really. it’s not say, the top school (if anything, i’m easily intimidated by competition), it’s not affiliated to any secondary schools, and it’s technically a neighbourhood school which is out of our 2km range… but i have my reasons for choosing it.

i’m going in with no high hopes, in case this is all a futile exercise. heck, i don’t even know if i’ll be able to complete the 40 hours! i’ll just take it as… experience? experiment? yeah, just go with it.

anyway, clocked in my first four hours at their annual funfair on friday. that’s me, in a badge that says ‘parent volunteer’, sweating under a hot tent, touting and doling out food which the other parents contributed. the REAL, hardcore parent volunteers, the NON-40-hour ones, mothers AND fathers who’ve been at this for years! omg i’ve never known such a thing as their enthusiasm and devotion to a parent volunteering network, i’m a little.. overwhelmed. :D

so, dear aniq, this better be worth my 40 hours….

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as i’ve mentioned more than enough times, i’ve never been much of a sports person, but since the beginning of 2010 (see post on New Year’s resolution) and the realisation that my body is in slow but certain deterioration (my bones creak every time i bend down these days, what’s that about?!), i’ve taken to gearing my activities to the less sedentary. well, as much as i can, anyway. (i STILL can’t cycle.)

and i sorta had an epiphany – maaaaybe the reason why i never warmed up to this whole active lifestyle was because my parents didn’t really bring me out to do sporty activities as a kid, or supported my school sports’ events? i don’t know, just a theory. (so what DID we do then? i think i was indoors a lot. my childhood’s a little hazy – and apparently, lazy.)

anyway, the kids’ school had a sports league thingy, in line with their theme and i suppose, the upcoming youth olympic games, and i thought, what the heck, it’s one saturday morning that’s already thought-out for us. (we’re always racking our brains thinking up of things to make them tired on weekends, so they’d turn in early at the end of the day – not that it ever works.)

hey do you remember your school sports days?? the only thing i remember is the ICE COLD MILO they used to give out in small plastic cups! it tasted SO delicious back then, for some reason. of course, the rest of my memory is of hiding in corners of the bleachers with other anti-sports friends. heh.

speaking of friends, each school had displays of what they did to tie in with the theme, and guess who aniq introduced us to…

… the mysterious girfriend he’s always talking about. she IS real.

i liked that they highlighted little anecdotes and photos as evidence of what they did or talked about in class, coz i think most times, we parents have little idea what they do in there, five days a week. my daily question of “what did you do in school today?” has them invariably answering in the standard “i eat” / “i play toys” / “i donno”, or if i’m lucky, random ramblings of who pushed who, or who was naughty.

and importantly, we also got to see who they hang out with, five days a week.

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one of those things i’ve been meaning to do but never got around to, due to my… erm, non-sahm status. bad excuse, i know, but weekends always seem to whiz by with little time to execute such activities at leisure. and it’s not much, but oh well, at least we were inspired, if only for one afternoon.

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the little girl’s many ‘aunties’ have been asking what she wants for her birthday.

what do you think?

clearly, she has waaaay too many boys’ toys at her disposal. from power rangers to ben 10 merchandise to cars to trucks to dinosaurs to (i’m ashamed to say this) guns (none of which i’m responsible for, i stress) – she’s been sharing them all with her brother.

which is not such a bad thing, actually. i think it’s kinda cute. (this is her favourite set of pajamas, by the way. i kid you not. “eh-men! i want eh-men!”) ha ha.

sure, there’s a cooking stove, which both of them congregate at every day to concoct imaginary dishes/drinks for me or the daddy. there’s a little pram with a freaky blonde doll, which they both take turns to chase each other around the house with. there’s a shopping trolley, which they equally find pleasure in scattering its contents all over the floor with.

i’ve not discussed with her yet about princesses (except that one book about a Princess Polly and her potty, and even that, it’s just a girl with a crown wearing panties, not your standard Disney-type womanly princesses with coiffed hair and frilly gowns who go around kissing frogs or supposedly rich, handsome, young, single, charming men), but somehow, either from the incessant advertisements on tv or from observations of older girls and peers, a kind of, hmm, ‘social osmosis’ happened, and she can identify with the concept.

“(pr)een-cess!”, she’d exclaim, her head tilting, her voice extra high-pitched and in such a sing-song manner that you can practically hear glitters and pink sparkles coming out of her. O-o

“princess?”, i’d ask, giving her a sceptical grimace. “dowan lah.”

as you can see, i’m still trying my best to resist the idea of over-gender-conditioning and hyper-femininity. i’m fighting against creating a ‘gu niang’ girl. just as i’d lost the battle with the boy and his penchant for toy guns, i may be losing it with the colour pink.

and, admittedly, mummy isn’t being a great example herself, what with her girly makeup and lipglosses and dresses and high heels, eh? LOL.

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there’s this scene in Dan In Real Life, starring steve carell (in an endearing role filled with endless pathos, reminiscent of steve martin in ‘father of the bride’, another favourite tearjerker), that struck me.

early on in the movie, his 15-year-old daughter declared her love for a boy after knowing him for 3 days, and as the rightful protecting father that he is, proceeds to ground her – for life.

Dan: And by the way, you’re grounded.
Cara: Oh yeah? For how long?
Dan: For life.
Jane: Dad, come on.
Cara: Yeah, this is humiliating!
Dan: Alright, you’re grounded for a month.
Cara: A month?! But… that’s worse than forever!

but he had to eat his words when he met marie (the beautiful juliette binoche), and fell in love with her after a morning of conversation – only to find out later that she’s his brother’s girlfriend. and so ensued an excruciating 3 days for him, stuck with her at his family gathering, repressing his feelings like a lovestruck 15-year-old. till the turning point in the movie where she breaks up with his brother, unable to repress her own growing feelings for him, and the entire family, including his daughters, discovered them kissing, resulting in a whirlwind of chaos.

Dan: I know I messed up.
Cara: Yup.
Jane: Yes you did.
Dan: So here is what I’m going to do. I am grounding myself for life. And so I will be with you–
Jane: You’re with us every day.
Dan: I’m not going anywhere. See, I got a little confused with Marie. That is over, okay? I kind of lost my head. I got a little stupid, because I love her. No, that’s not…I don’t love her. and that’s not what I meant. I mean, how could I love her? I’ve only known her..
Lily: Three days.
Dan: Yeah. And how can you know in three days? Well, no. Yes I do. I love her. I love her, I love her, I love her. I love her.

that part about grounding himself for life, man, that did it for me. there’s something heartbreaking in his attempts to be the übermensch single father – the self-sacrifice, the unconditional love, the rules and decisions that make him, as his 9-yr-old daughter says, “a great father but a bad dad” – but eventually succumbing to human fallibility.

i guess a single mother could make an equally compelling story – with more martyr-like panache for dramatic measure – but because he’s a single father, it brings out… a different kind of aww-factor fuzziness. yeah, i’m a sucker like that. coz for some strange – biological? evolutionary? – reason, we women have a soft spot for the nurturing male of the species, so much so that we even want to nurture the nurturing male. we can’t help it. just look as far back as the bedtime fairytales of yore, you’ll find more instances of stepmothers than stepfathers (refer to: snow white, cinderella, hansel & gretel, et al). from kings to woodcutters, they all seem to have these women (nevermind that they’re usually evil, vain, material and non-maternal) taking them into their open bosoms.

and, yes, in true fairytale fashion, dan did end up marrying marie. (except she’s not evil and they all love her, and i REALLY MUST STOP reading too much into those darn fairytales i read to aniq at night coz they’re screwing up with my brains).

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speaking of grounding, we’d ‘grounded’ the boy on sunday on account of his adamant refusal to partake in a weekend activity we’d subscribed him to for one hour. his excuse: he wanted to play with his toys. so fine, we told him, play with your toys all you want at home, but NO TV and NO following us out AT ALL. (we were going to shop for a birthday present before proceeding to the said birthday, where his cousin dadam was anticipating his arrival, so he’d be missing out on all the action.) he cried at the penalty. “too bad,” we told him. “that’s called Punishment, aniq.”

i mean, he has to learn that he simply can’t have his way all the time without some kind of repercussion, in this case, at the expense of fun time with his favourite cousin and the goodies that come with birthday parties. right?

sometimes i ask the husband, “is he spoilt? is he a spoilt brat?” i have my suspicions, but how exactly we’ve ‘spoilt’ him, i’m not too sure. it’s not like we give in to his whines or demands, we teach him to mind his Ps & Qs, we scold him whenever he does something wrong, praise him when he’s right… so what happened in between the acquiescent, eager-to-please baby he was and now? have we been too soft? could corporal punishment have its merits, after all?

in any case, when we came home, he was all kisses and hugs and, the cold, unforgiving mother that i am, i told him i was still angry. (i’m cruel, i know.) remnants of his remorse lingers the next day, smothering me all over with affection when i returned. “do you want go to the [subscribed weekend activity] on sunday?” “yes,” was his immediate response. “good boy,” i said.

I AM AN EMOTIONAL-BLACKMAIL FIEND, is what i am. if this were a fairytale, i’d be the stepmother.

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since we’re on the topic of fairytales, and i clearly have a fascination at demystifying them, i leave you with this rhyme, an english translation at the end of a Perrault story to warn young girls with a propensity for attracting sexual predators (i’m sure you can easily guess which one).

Little girls, this seems to say,
Never stop upon your way,
Never trust a stranger-friend;
No one knows how it will end.
As you’re pretty so be wise;
Wolves may lurk in every guise.
Handsome they may be, and kind,
Gay, and charming—nevermind!
Now, as then, ’tis simple truth—
Sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth!

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