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grandma

love bites

A beautiful disaster

worst day of my life

It’s the dichotomies in life that make it exciting. I suppose life would be awfully boring if everything went smoothly all the time and it’s the stench of poop that makes roses smell sweeter. So here’s the story of how we got a nice, giant whiff of crap yesterday.

It was meant to be a delayed birthday celebration and we had made plans to take a day off without the kid. To recapture the old days, as it were. The plan was to leave Tru at my mom’s place (grandmas are lifesavers) and head out for a show, a nice dinner and maybe a relaxing walk.

The day started pretty good. For lack of a better option, we ended up watching Star Trek, a total geeky, fanboy kinda show. 10 minutes in, I was totally lost as they went on and on about the transponders and other whatnot gizmos, so I spent the next 2 hours ogling at Chris Pine.

It looked set to be another usual, humdrum outing as we headed back to the car. That’s when the fun started. To our horror, we realized that we had lost the car key, and it was the last set we had. It’s one of those moments where time slows to a halt and a string of expletives made its way to the top of my mind as the gravity of the situation sank in. It could have been lost anywhere along Orchard Road and it’s practically worse than looking for a needle in a haystack.

I decided to sit my pregnant ass down like a vagrant by the side of the road while the husband sprinted down Orchard Road looking for the lost key. I was so depressed that I thought of whipping out my trusty little tin can to make some spare cash while waiting, but even the can was in the car and all I had was my mobile phone. Bummer.

After spending 20 mins checking all the possible places, the key was still nowhere to be found, and our last hope was the cinema, which was screening another show till 11.05 pm. With 90 mins to burn and all the shops closed, we were all dejected as we trudged down to Mackers for a mango smoothie. You know how they say music is food for the soul? Of all the songs in the world, they had to play Ironic by Alanis Morisette to capture the plight that we were in. So there we were, feeling sorry for ourselves and wandering aimlessly like a bunch of delinquents.

Long story short, the cinema managed to retrieve the key and we almost hugged the nice lady at the ticket booth (whose name was Jelly, I’m serious). I’ve never been this happy to see a car key. Mraz has a classic line that says “it takes a loss before you found it”.

The relief at finding something you almost gave up all hope on is a huge rush. It was 11.15 and we had missed our dinner but hey, we did get our walk, (just like the old days) multiple times up and down Orchard Road peering at people’s feet.

And that kinda makes today seem extra nice and beautiful.

kids inc

Double, double, toil and trouble

Ever wondered where babies learn all their naughty stuff from? I’m constantly amazed by the kinds of nonsense Tru is capable of conjuring on a daily basis. He recites this motto every morning. “I solemnly swear that I will be up to no good.”

I thought it was a given that I’ll be able to preempt his moves, since my superbrain is like 10,000 times more powerful than his. But I’ll be honest. More often than not, I’m caught totally off-guard, gaping at his ingenuity. I’d like to take credit for it, but it’s certainly not from me, and unless a gnome is secretly having mischief lessons with him in the dead of the night, I’m completely stumped.

For example, whenever he does something naughty, he will laugh like this. “HA HA HA” (complete with mocking tone). It’s not a giggle nor a grin. It’s more like a cross between a smirk and a taunt, as if he knows he’s got the upper hand and he’s rubbing it in my face.

He’s also learnt to recognize locations. Whenever he’s at Grandma’s house, he knows he can get away with murder (as opposed to being put on trial at home). In the hierarchy chain, he seems to know that Grandma trumps Mommy and he’s got her all nicely wound around his little pinky.

Whenever he gets nagged at or scolded, he’ll take his tiny hands and cover the offending person’s mouth. Somehow, he’s worked out that the sound coming out from there is highly unpleasant, and he needs to put a stop to it.

And for his finishing move. When he knows he’s in deep trouble (the kind that will result in an ass-whipping), he’ll snuggle his head on your chest and hug you real tight as if to say “I’m sor-wee I was naughty, and I just want you to know that I love you so much.”

The baby discipline books all say the same thing. Laughing encourages bad behavior. Kids know that as long as parents laugh at their misdemeanors, they are less likely to get spanked. But it’s not that easy to remain deadpan in the face of such brilliance. I try to keep a straight face, but then Tru will suddenly burst out giggling like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and all my disciplinary efforts will be down the drain.

I think I’ll have to send him for obedience classes with Mickey the next time around.