Driver's Mumbo Jumbo

Gabe sat on his Ferrarri toy car, and mumbled something about forgetting the cashcard, pretended to take out a wallet, and said "Ok, I can go past now."

Lizard Scare

It was a quiet evening. Dinner was ready and derod was on his way home. The kids were entertaining themselves in the living room. The washing machine chimed; the children's clothes are done. I transferred them into a pail, ready to hang them on the rack outside. I thought I saw something slim and long lying at the bottom on the machine's drum, decided it couldn't be what I thought it was, and continued getting all the clothes out, including the unidentified object.

I wrapped my fingers around it and all at once, these thoughts shot through me: realization of what it was, confirming my initial suspicions; disgust (accompanied by goosebumps on my neck), that I actually laid my hands on its raw texture; horror and disbelief, that I'm actually holding it with my bare hands; fear, I can't explain this, but just fear.

I gave a scream worthy of a ride down Universal Studio Singapore's Battlestar Galactica (Cylon side), flung the object back into the machine and made a dash for the kitchen door. The drama came to an abrupt end when I saw my two children looking up at me in quiet composure. For a split second, I was both embarrassed and at a loss for words in explanation. It was the ultimate anti-climax. Then Gabe began his series of questions. What happened? Why did you scream? What's in the kitchen?

I was ambushed (for the umpteenth time, though the encounters differ) by our domestic reptilian co-habitant. What on earth was a lizard doing in my washing machine, and among my children's laundry?!

When derod got home, I told him this was one of those jobs around the house that men are responsible for, and waited for him in the living room. He wrapped his hand in a plastic bag and proceeded to get rid of the already-drowned lizard. Then he swaggered into the living room and began jeering at me. It was a fake; a rubber replica of my household nemesis! I could have died!

Then I recalled Gabe's grandaunt playing with him just a few days ago at his great-grandfather's place and told him to take the rubber thing home to play. She must have stuffed it into his pocket without any of us knowing and that was how it got into the laundry. Urgh!! I shook with disbelief and the realization of the truth. To think I almost went into cardiac arrest for the sake of a piece of rubber! The rest of the family shook for a different reason - holding their sides and stifling their laughter.

Page boy

About a year ago, I managed to get sunshineinmysoul to blurt out in confession that her boyfriend has popped the question. Aside from some queries on how to go about getting some procedures done, she asked if Gabe would walk down the aisle ahead of her as a page boy! Although I have to admit that I kind of saw that coming, I was still very much surprised that she would take the risk with a boy who was only going to be two plus years old. The chances of a successful and uneventful march-in were going to be really really slim.

Well, it was going to be about a year later, so I thought I'd just worry about it when the time comes. But when the time drew near, reality struck. How was I going to ensure that the boy complements the whole ceremony, instead of being the cause of any situation requiring resolution. Ok, that was a nice way of saying how I can, as a mother, prevent a situation of having the hundreds of guests witness or hear the deafening wails my son is capable of while the melody of the march-in song tinkles in the background. Nevertheless, I got on with preparations for sunshineinmysoul's big day.

1. Ethan (Gabe's second cousin) lent us the suit he donned for Uncle En and Auntie Kin's wedding. We did a trial fitting for him one night. It was a little baggy but it hung relatively nicely on Gabe's frame. Gabe's waipo got the boy a pair of black shoes to go with the suit and the assembly of the outfit was complete.

2. We took him out for an atas haircut.

3. MOST importantly, I've been drilling him on the descriptives of his role for months. When the date drew nearer, I upped my game by offering him a bribe: for every single successful trip down the aisle, he'll be rewarded with a chocolate biscuit. One hello panda biscuit with chocolate filling. I can't help but feel I'm a zoo keeper rewarding the little animal once he gets an act right. Gabe got so familiar with the instructions he was almost ready to do his part, mostly because of the salivating thought of the chocolate oozing out of the biscuit in his mouth.

The date of the rehearsal arrived. We left Rou with my parents and spent an evening at the traditionally-furbished church. We made friends with the two other children who were going to accompany Gabe down the aisle. The little girl was the best companion/ mother ever. Typical of an eldest girl in the family, she was caring yet bossy all at once. In my opinion, she sealed the deal of making this an easy and pleasant experience for Gabe.

Everyone did a couple of trial runs down the aisle, where the kids were accompanied by their mothers, and the bridesmaid by her bread-dinner in a plastic bag in place of the bouquet of flowers. They learnt to watch out for their cues, which centred around the musicians who were playing the violin and the piano. (Gabe spent a bit of time observing the musicians up close.) They took a break for the couple to rehearse their parts and went for a final round where no assistance was offered to the children. He did great, except that he needed to improve on his pace.

Every time Gabe finished his walk and handed the ring pillow to the pastor, he'll come running to me for his treat.

The runway.

Crowded runway.

Just the kids.

On the actual day, I was in a flurry, preparing everyone (derod and I were part of a song item dedicated to the couple) for the occasion. Honestly, I think I was the most excited and flustered one of the lot, that added to the suspense and uncertainty of how the situation would pan out...

...while Gabe was busy impressing the flower girl.

Anyway, it was time. Everyone took their positions, the music began and the introductory video began playing. The flower girl, first one of the procession, stepped up and got ready to go. Gabe was number two and then it hit him: this was it! He hesitated, didn't want to let go of my hand and requested for me to walk with him. My heart raced as I took him forwards for two steps, let go of him, reminded him to "go to papa", who was at the fourth row beckoning him and disappeared from his sight to wait for him in front. Well, you can see how he fared from this video: walking like he's in a world of his own, avoiding the petals on the floor, glancing around. But he did get the job done, and passed on the ring pillow to the pastor at the end. (Care has been taken to protect the identities of the bridesmaid and bride in the video.)

The sole motivation of his accommodating performance? "Mummy can I have my chocolate biscuits now?" Immediately after he stepped off the aisle.

After the ceremony, we hung around for refreshments and derod took out the camera.

Here's Gabe channeling Shahrukh Khan.

Effects of endorphins from the chocolate biscuits.

Mei made friends! Seen here with Trudy and RP.

I think sunshineinmysoul was also very glad her favourite boy (assuming he's still her favourite boy) managed to make her wedding an uneventful one :)

Pals for twelve years! I'm so happy for you, my dear. Have a great time as J's missus.

Hit Me Baby One More Time!

Gabe's interest in and proficiency at the drums has increased by leaps and bounds. While I have to creatively divert his attention from going at it all day, he on the other hand finds creative outlets to release that passion and energy.

Dai seefu (big teacher) has a drum set and it's parked at but a stone's throw from our place. An invitation came to Gabe one day, for him to have some fun there.

Seen here, the little drummer boy and his rendition of Desert Song. Video courtesy of the dai seefu and his brother B. Gabe was 2.75 years old. You can see him receiving cues from his seefu; how anal he is when he has to stop and adjust things out of position; intensifying his "crashing" as the music crescendos. Oh, he left the place with a blister on each index finger, the result of the hour-long bashing on the drums. Looks like our friend has experienced what it means to be a committed musician!

UNglam

Gabe was scheduled to spend the day at his grandma's and I was rushing to get him out of the house in the morning. I figured that since he'll be getting into the car from our car park, and going straight up to the other house, I can save the effort of changing him out of his training pants and into something nicer. No doubt the training pants do look very much like underwear. Ok, they are very much equivalent to underwear. But he'll be changed into similar comfortable wear when he gets to his grandma's anyway. So I made up my mind and got him to put on his sandals.

He was about to get out of the house when he stopped at the threshold and asked, "Mummy, can I go out like that?"

Taken aback, the mother stuttered and stammered and finally gave him the verdict, "Of course!"

Oh... what lesson on modesty am I giving my son?

New Excuse in the House

Gabe's been throwing some tantrums at nap and sleep times. I figured it must be one of those effects of coping with a baby sister in need of greater attention.

One afternoon, Gabe cried at naptime, screaming to be carried. I thought something may be amiss like fears arising out of bad dreams. So here goes an edited version of the conversation that followed.

Cheoklet: Are you afraid of something?
Gabe: I'm afraid of sleeping. *WAIL*
Cheoklet: *threw forth various failed threats in attempt to stop the wails* Did you see anything?
Gabe: Yes!!! *WAIL* Mummy, I'm afraid of sleeping. I see something.
Cheoklet: What do you see?
Gabe: *in between sobs* I see lizard crawling on the wall!

Urgh. Try harder next time, son.

Day Out with Gabe Boy

I don't know what went through my mind when I agreed to let Gabe take up the role of Page Boy at sunshineinmysoul's wedding. He was going to be only two plus years old. The date was drawing near and the boy needed a haircut in preparation for the big day. As you all know, I've been the person behind his haircuts and of late, I seem to be doing more damage than creative cuts. Check out this last monstrosity.

So we decided to make a good looking chap out of him and while we're at it, might as well try out those with televisions screening his favourite shows and see how effective they really are. Derod and I decided to make it a day out with Gabe and left Rou with my mother, a first since Rou's arrival. We went to one of the branches of Junior League, sat him down in front of the one-eyed monster and witnessed the wonders of this concept. Whoever thought it out has to be a genius, though I do question the long term ramifications of the relationship between television and today's young.

The long and short of it is, nothing happened. Gabe sat there, flinching occasionally, but was quiet. It didn't matter whether it was the scissors or a shaver being waved at him. There was no crying, no protesting, no bargaining, nothing. The only thing that came out of his mouth was a request to watch Barney instead of Thomas, halfway through the cut. The hairdressers were real professionals! They look a little "auntie" but their skills were impressive; they were fast, accurate and were experts at flicking hair away from the kids' faces. Derod and I were so caught up in wonder that we basically looked like two idiotic parents snapping pictures and taking videos. We walked away with a boy with a spunky do, complete with stand-up hair held together by gel.

"There she goes..."

"There she goes again..."

"Racing through my brain..."

"And I just can't contain this feeling that remains..."

Thereafter, we had lunch at a Japanese restaurant and then derod had to go back to work, on a Saturday. So Gabe and I made our way back to my parents' to pick Rou up. We walked down Orchard Road, all the way from Isetan Scotts to Somerset MRT, took the train to Dhoby Ghaut, crossed to the connecting line and to our stop, and walked back to my parents' home. Here are our adventures en route:

We walked all the way and Gabe was very well behaved. He walked throughout with me. When we reached the traffic light at Takashimaya, he started to shiver and tugged at my hand, refusing to go on. He was crouching awkwardly, grunting weirdly, refused to move a step. I was quite taken aback and a pang of guilt shot through me as I wondered if I had made him walk too far in the sun. Then the realization of what really happened hit me.

The boy was pooping right in the middle of Orchard Road!

He's been toilet trained right, which means his poop was now sitting nicely in his underwear. I was astounded. I grabbed him off the streets and headed towards Taka, all the while hoping his poop won't drop out of his pants. That will really test my reaction to the max. Well, it didn't drop out, not even as I lugged him to the kids toilet on level 5. The lift was crowded and the smell was so obviously diffusing in that small space. I pretended not to notice.

We went to the toilet, dunked the clump into the toilet, thanked God it managed to go down at the flush (poops in confined spaces clump into big lumps), wore the same underwear back on the boy and went on our way. All this while, I was nagging at Gabe, telling him how upset I was that he didn't tell me he wanted to poop, that he did it in his underwear, etc etc etc. He must have felt how cross I was and when I stopped to look at something, took the opportunity to say, "Sorry Mummy," *hugs me*, "I'm upset with you. I mmmm mmm in my underwear."

That misuse of noun got me stifling a little giggle, and the apology too. Then there's the absurdity of your son pooping in the middle of the streets of Orchard. I was actually quite amused but in the true spirit of a mother chiding her son for not telling her he wants to poop, I had to, as they say, give it to him.

The rest of our journey was uneventful. Then again, no event could outdo that poop-deed that day. So here ends our day out with Gabe boy, complete with a spanking new do and poop-stained underwear and butt.