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Kidspeak

kids in motion, Kidspeak

And for my next trick…

In our house, toy-packing happens once a day, usually just before bedtime.

They know the drill – they get to pour out their toys everywhere, on condition that they pack up before they got to bed.

While the pouring of toys is done with much gusto and enthusiasm, the packing process involves a fair bit of reluctance and shuffling of feet, accompanied with drawls of “I’m so tired”, “my feet hurt”, “I just need to rest for a while first.”

The other day, I found Kirsten sitting next to her toys with a magic wand (my bubble tea straw) in hand, waving it and going “ALAKAZAM!”

Me: Baby, may I ask what you’re doing?

Kirsten: ALAKAZAM! ALAKAZAM!

Me: Um, hello??

Kirsten: Wait mom, I’m doing something.

Me: Yeah, I can see that. The question is what.

Kirsten: I’m trying to make my toys disappear. But it’s not working.

Me: Oh…I’d be very surprised if it works.

Kirsten: ALAKAZAM! Toys, disappear!

Me: Have fun. Just make sure the toys are packed when you’re done.

Kirsten: *pause* KOR KOR, MOMMY SAYS YOU NEED TO PACK UP THE TOYS!!

Me: Ok, that’s a far more impressive trick, but that’s not what I said. BOTH of you need to pack up together.

Kirsten: *sighhhh* 

Kidspeak, pregnancy

Fact: Kids make you fat.

For my mid afternoon snack yesterday, I made myself a grilled cheese with tomato sandwich. I usually have several slices of bacon with my grilled cheese in lieu of anything resembling a vegetable, but during my gynae appointment on Monday, I was told that my weight gain is getting “alarmingly rapid”.

After keeping my weight gain to just 8 kg in 32 weeks, I’ve put on another 3 kg in the last month alone, of which only 200 grams belong to the baby.

I guess that counts as alarming.

Also, I hate you, last trimester hormones.

So I was sitting at the kitchen table trying to enjoy my vegetable sandwich and not think about bacon when the kids came sauntering in.

Tru: What are you having, mommy?

Me: A sandwich. Want some?

Both: Me, me, I want!

Kirsten took a bite and immediately started making gagging faces before letting the whole gooey lump fall out of her mouth.

Kirsten: That’s not a sandwich. It’s gross.

Me: What do you mean it’s not a sandwich? It’s a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. And it’s not gross.

Ok, it was totally gross but if I was going to endure a vegetable sandwich, they were going to suffer together with me.

Kirsten: Sandwich is not s’posed to have tomato…where’s the bacon?

Me: Guys, we’re not going to have bacon for a while because mommy’s on a diet. It’s vegetables for everyone yay!!

Tru: What’s a diet?

Me: A diet is when mommy needs to eat less to lose weight, and I’m not allowed to have bacon.

Tru: Because you’re becoming fat?

Me: Hey, I’m pregnant, there’s a difference. And it’s because of you guys that I’m even in this predicament.

Tru: But Truett and mei mei are not fat what. We can have bacon, you eat the vegetables.

If you must know, they got their bacon sandwich and I might have snuck one or two slices into mine as well.

For the record, if I get really fat, it’s definitely the kids’ fault. All 3 of them.

Kidspeak

Stinking Beauty and Other Tales

During bedtime yesterday…

Kirsten: Mommy shall we read a great-time story?

Me: What’s that?

Kirsten: A GREAT-time story.

Me: You mean a bedtime story, because it’s bed time now?

Kirsten: No, not bed time. I want a great-time story.

Me: I guess that works, I’m sure we’ll be having a great time with the story. Alright, go pick a book.

Kirsten: Shall we read Stinking Beauty?

Tru: Huh, not Stinking Beauty, mei mei. It’s Sleeping Beauty.

*Tru runs out to get the book*

Tru: See, the princess is sleeping right, she’s Sleeping Beauty.

*Kirsten takes the book and peers at it closely for a while*

Kirsten: It’s Stinking Beauty. She is very smelly because got smoke coming out from her head.

Me: OMG. So that’s why the prince looks constipated. I bet anyone would be smelly if they didn’t fell asleep and didn’t shower for a hundred years.

In other news, I’m seriously going to send this girl for a Mensa test.

Kidspeak

Big Boy Space

“I need space,” he said as he gently shoved me aside with the back of his little hand, eyes still glued to the TV.

This was new. He’s needed a lot of things in the past almost 4 years but space has never been one of them. I didn’t even know that he knew what space was, much less needed it. Even when he was watching TV, he’d want me to sit next to him with my laptop just so I could be close by. He would smile and let me tousle his hair or play with his toes or smother him with kisses. He’d even reach out to hold my hand every so often.

“I’m not taking away your space, I just wanted to give you a small kiss.”

“Not now. Later when I’m done, ok?” Still not even throwing me a glance.

“Would you like me to sit with you while you watch?”

“No need. You go out to do your work. Go, go, go.”

“Fine, but just one kiss before I go? When you were a baby, you used to let me kiss you anytime I wanted, remember.”

He finally looked up for a brief moment. I thought he would reach in for a quick kiss but he didn’t.

“I’m not a baby anymore, I’m a big boy.”

So he was. He used to need me but now he needs space. Away from me.

I knew this day would come and I remember telling myself that when it happened, I’d let him take the lead in pulling away. I’d hang around in the distance just close enough that when he needed me, I could come sprinting back. I’d give him the space he needed for as long as he needed it. I’d learn to be ok with it.

***

“I want you to sit with me.”

I checked the clock and it was barely 15 minutes since he chased me out of the room. I was doing a victory fist pump in my head but I played it cool.

“You’re done with TV? You want mommy to spend time with you now?”

He nodded.

“Sure, sweetheart, anytime.”

Today, it was just 15 minutes of space that he needed and I felt like I was losing my baby. Maybe I was overreacting. I usually look forward to the pockets of time I could steal to check my emails or get some work done but I guess the difference was that I always did it on my terms, knowing that they still needed me.

How do moms do this? Let go, I mean. One day they’re helpless and needy and clingy and I turn my entire world upside down to be there for them. Then just when I’m used to being needed, they decide to grow up. Next thing I know, they’ll be running off with friends, hiding secrets, blocking me on Facebook and having all kinds of crazy adventures without me.

I should probably just enjoy it while it lasts. That and have more babies.

 

Kidspeak

Miss Motor Mouth

Back when I was a kid, Asian parents were big on the “kids should be seen and not heard” philosophy and much as my parents tried to be progressive, we were often made aware of the fact that talking back was a sign of disrespect. We didn’t have open discussions about bedtime or how much soda was considered to be the acceptable limit for a child.

We were told exactly what to do, how to do it and when we had to get it done. A lot of it seemed arbitrary, but we did as we were told and if we didn’t agree, well, that was just unfortunate. For us, mostly.

I suspect that if I was left to my own devices, I would have been a smart-assed mouthy kid but my parents had the foresight not to leave me to my own devices.

I figured that when I had my own kids, the cycle of bossing would be complete and it would be my turn to be the boss of them. If they questioned me, I would nod thoughtfully and say “Because mommies are smarter and one day when you grow up, you’ll understand why you have to wear pants in public. For now, you’ll just have to do as I say.” Or if I wanted to be dramatic, I’d go with a definitive “Don’t question me, young man. I. am. your. mother.”

For the most part, that works on Tru so he’ll sigh audibly and say “Ok fine, I will, I will.”

Kirsten, on the other hand, is exactly like me, except possibly mouthier. Which is very jarring because she looks so tiny and harmless but then once she opens her mouth, she throws these verbal curve balls that stump us a little.

Me: Sweetie, it’s time for your nap. Take your duck duck and go lie down.

Kirsten: Huh, so early? Why I need to nap so early?

Me: It’s the same time you nap everyday. You need to sleep or you’ll be tired.

Kirsten: But I’m not tired. See, my eyes are so big.

Me: You’ll be tired later. Mommy knows better ok, just go to sleep.

Kirsten: How come sometimes I don’t need to sleep then sometimes I have to sleep?

Me: It’s… complicated. Don’t question me, I am your mother.

Kirsten: I just play toys for 10 minutes, if I’m tired I will sleep ok.

***

While playing a water shooting game with the husband at the pool

Kirsten: DADDY YOU CANNOT SHOOT ME!!!

Husband: Why not? We’re just playing…

Kirsten: IT’S NOT NICE TO SHOOT PEOPLE YOU KNOW?!!

Husband: You were having fun shooting at me just now.

Kirsten: But you’re so big and I’m just a small girl. I can shoot you but you cannot shoot me back.

Kidspeak, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Hey, what’s that smell?

Kids don’t get political correctness. You know all those neurotransmitters from our various senses to our brain that makes us stop and think before saying something? It apparently takes a long time to develop, which makes it awesome to be a kid because they have a license to talk without thinking. They get to say whatever they want as and when they feel like it.

Like when it’s cold, they don’t think about why it’s cold, or exactly how many degrees of coldness is in the air, or how the cold is affecting anyone else. All they care about is that “It is cold, woman, do your job and make me feel less cold.”

So anyway, our block of flats has been undergoing a lift upgrading program so there’s been a lot of workers coming and going recently. And most of these workers spend the entire day engaged in manual labor so it’s understandable that they don’t smell like roses and lavender by the middle of the afternoon. Last week, we had the opportunity to ride with one of them up the elevator on the way back from school.

As the lift door closed, Tru looked around and remarked, “Eh, what’s that smell?”

That smell was obviously coming from the guy in front of me who by now, was starting to look more than a little uncomfortable.

Spontaneously, Kirsten joined in. “YA SO SMELLY RIGHT? EEEEE, I THINK IT’S UNCLE,” while pinching her nose with one hand and waving vigorously in front of her nose with the other.

It was turning out to be a very long elevator ride.

I considered my options. I could go with a) “Huh? Nah, I don’t smell anything…” or b) “It probably came from outside, guys” or c) “Oh look! Buttons! Who wants to help me press these super fun lift buttons?”

Meanwhile, the poor guy was shifting visibly on the spot, diffusing more of that unadulterated masculine sweat odor.

I was still mulling over my options when the door finally opened and I hastily shooed the kids out while glancing apologetically at the guy. Once we were safely home, I had some explaining to do.

Me: Kids, we can’t say that uncle is smelly ok.

Tru: But he is very smelly what. I cannot breathe just now, you know.

Me: Yes, ok, he was a bit smelly but it’s kind of not his fault.

Kirsten: I think he poo poo in his pants.

Me: I doubt it. Uncle works very hard fixing the lift so he didn’t have time to bathe.

Kirsten: We must tell uncle to bathe.

Me: No no, that’s not nice. Next time when you smell someone smelly, just bear with it. It’s not nice to say it in front of them.

Tru: Only when uncle go out already, then we can say it’s smelly?

Me: *sigh* Well, I guess that’s ok. If you really have to say it, it’s better to say it after they leave.

I’m guessing at some point, I’ll have to deal with the whole issue about talking about people behind their backs but for now, it’ll have to do.

Father Inc, Kidspeak

The commodity of cool

Me: Tru, is mommy cool?

Tru: Of course not.

Me: What? Why?

Tru: Because you’re mommy and mommy’s not s’posed to be cool.

Me: Says who? Mommies can be cool too right?

Tru: No, mommies cannot be cool.

Me: Oh well, I guess cool is overrated anyway.

Tru: Sometimes cool is good and sometimes cool is not good. But mommy is always good.

Me: Wow, how are you not even 4 years old? That is actually the sweetest thing I’ve heard all week.

Me: Ok how about daddy? Is daddy cool?

Tru: Yes, daddy is cool.

Me: So daddy is sometimes good and sometimes not good?

Tru: Daddy is super cool and super good.

Me: And you are super biased. I’m giving you and your super cool daddy bread and water for dinner tonight.