I Love Helping Mum

Finally! A post that's just more than a photo uploaded from Instagram or from my iPhone. How sad am I, as far as blogging goes, these days?

I'd be ashamed to call myself one, which is why, I don't.

We've been busy recently. Or rather, I have. Stumbled upon Pinterest recently and have been totally addicted. As much, I've been bombarded with DIY and craft ideas so have been busy with my hands. Enlisted small fry to help but she gets distracted so easily when it comes to the nitty gritty.

Lucky me, though, that she loves organizing as much as I do. So here are a few of her dilligently filling in little jars with my collection of buttons. Diligently, that is, until her playmate Troy calls her up on the phone for a dinner-cum-playdate at the playground.

We can just imagine what she'll be like when she reaches dating age.

Slowly, slowly...

Oops, dropped one!

What's THAT doing in there?

How Not To Use The Remote Control

Last night, I tried unsuccessfully to switch on the fan using the remote control. I pointed the thing at the standing fan and press as I might on the button, the blurdy fan remained obstinately silent. Out of frustration, I turned to small fry and said to her, "What did you do with the fan? It's not working!"

Note: small fry likes to ambush the fan and constantly turns it off when it is most appreciated. I thought that this time she may have gone so far as to turn it off at the main electrical connection.

She retorted, "Mummy, you're pressing the OFF button!"

"Oh!" replied her sheepish Mummy.

It takes a four year-old to point out that I don't know how to use a remote control. Yikes.

The fan whirred to life as soon as the correct button was pressed.

A Girl & Her Best Friend

A sunny day, good company, a nearby beach = a great day out! Small fry went to the beach with Troy, her 7 year-old best friend, and had a blast building sandcastles and getting thoroughly tanned. The 'aunties' were thoroughly amused with the two kids. They provided enough laughs and entertainment to last throughout the trip and the following days.

Of Cats, Crabs And Whatnot

So we love our colours, crayons and pens. And no one loves them more than small fry.

A yellow crab

The letter 'T' poking itself with a pin

A fountain with a hole in the middle from where it exploded out of

Where all her 'diaps' sleep

A black cat

An interesting foray into the mind of a toddler, don't you think?

In The Mind Of A Four Year Old

Small fry can be a morbid little thing, as witnessed by her creative endeavors:





Exhibit A: a snowman with his head dropping off





Exhibit B: another snowman with his head almost dropping off with a snail on the lower left whose features are a little grotesque, specifically, according to small fry, with a big eye and a small eye.

Then again there's the more 'normal' aspect of her imagination:



Purple the cat, as drawn by Daddy with a purple fountain (purple squiggle) and a blue banana, both penned by small fry.




A black and pink crescent moon with the sun next to it. The purple squiggles is not the sun. That's the 'stuff' that the sun is hiding behind. The sun is that faint orange blot, which incidentally, was drawn on the reverse of the paper.

I'd like to see her in a graphic arts class one day; who knows what will spring forth from her psyche?

Hm, maybe I wouldn't like to find out.

Sunday Scribbles

Early on a Sunday morning, small fry waxes creative; her dancing name, her new stuffed cat, Purple and a black fountain grace the sheet of paper.





It still baffles me how a four year-old can be so energetic and wide awake at 7am on a Sunday. By 8am, while I was still dozing on the couch, she'd already had two breakfasts, taken a dump, read her chinese books and made several messes of her bookshelves, and turned the living room rug into a war zone of colouring pens and pencils.

As I write, she's making a mess of the guest room.

Thank goodness for weekdays and playschool.

What It Would Look Like If They Danced

This is one of the various cards that small fry leaves around the house either for us to find or made specifically for us. You can just about make out her name written haphazardly over the card in no order whatsoever. Or rather, in this case, the letters of her name over the card.

I asked her why the letters of her name were not in order and all over the place.

"Oh, I think they're dancing, Mummy. See, they have music! The music is brown."

How do you argue with logic like that?

Shop Till We Groove

My friend Anis is one of the best aunts I know. Not only is she the daytime caretaker of her nephew, Musa, she's every inch the doting aunt and in many instances, I feel as if she treats Musa like her own. All of which make Musa a very lucky three year-old. Of course, if I tell Anis that, she'd just brush aside my comments, modest person that she is.

Anis and Musa recently made a trip down to visit us. On the agenda: shopping for Anis and playdates for Musa. It was a fun-filled and full schedule; three full days of shopping interspersed with romp and play for the small ones.

When we weren't out shopping and looking for play areas for the young ones, we were at home supervising small fry's and Musa's antics. And then there was the cooking.

Musa hit the jackpot staying at our place. It had all the elements he adored: playmate, planes and trains passing by overhead and underfoot, and a mosque next door. Small fry got someone to lord it over and boss around, "Musa, you must drink more water or your lips will be dry", "Musa, don't throw your rice cake out the window or no more rice cake for you!", "Musa, share!", among other admonishments and orders.

While they did spend a fair amount of time in their strollers, the small ones took it in stride, entertaining themselves whichever way they could.

Small fry had so much fun with Musa over the weekend that she refused to go to playschool the next two days. Since she'll be enlisted into the school grind soon enough, I saw no reason to turn the table on her wishes to play.

It was a lovely albeit tiring change of schedule for all of us. When the time came for Anis and Musa to leave, I could see Anis was ready to head back home and hand Musa back to his parents.

Small fry on the other hand, when presented with news that Musa was to leave that day promptly bawled, "I don't want Musa to go home! I don't want Musa to leave. I want him to stay!" repeatedly all the way from Paragon to Somerset 313.

Thankfully when it came time for the actual parting, both toddlers parted without much drama. They were positively civil, doling out hugs and saying goodbye.

I'd say it was a successful venture by Anis to travel with Musa on her own. Even though she appeared harried at times. And she didn't find the shoes she was looking for.

We'll be looking forward to our trip back before CNY and another play date with Musa. In the meantime, here's proof that they had fun even while we shopped:

Too Much Alike

The day before, after repeatedly asking small fry to clean up but not getting a response, I said to her, "If you don't pick up your toys, I'll throw them away then you know!"

Yesterday in the kitchen she said to me, "I throw away the ginger then you know!" and went on to include, "I throw away the onions then you know!"

Hint: she does not like spice and will reject anything too spicy or strongly flavoured, hence the admonishments.

Sigh. Every day she's beginning to sound more and more like me. She scolds like me, talks like me, uses my choice phrases and cuts me off just like I cut her off, "I tell you what, I tell you what," or "No, Mummy. I tell you what, I tell you what," without even a pause when I try to cut in.

She delivers cutting reprimands to her toys, "If you don't eat your food, I smack you then you know!" and hold my face in her hands as she tries to drum some sense into me, "Listen to me, listen to me, Mummy!".

And when I speak a little too softly, "I can't hear what you're saying; I can't understand you," or "Hah?" gets thrown in my face a little too often.

Shudder.

I'm sure when she's a teenager and reading this, it will make her shudder too.

More Than One Way To Mop The Floor

It's the second last day of Jona's two-week holiday. I'm feeling industrious after a bout of vacuuming and have brought out the mop and the bucket. Small fry sees me, hops off her dining chair and trails after me into the bathroom.

"Mummy, are you mopping?"

"Yes."

"Can I help please?"

"No, why don't you sit down? It'll be wet and slippery. You might fall."

"I'll walk slowly. Can I help you mop please?"

"No, I think it's better that you just sit down."

"Please, please can I help you mop?"

Pause.

"Please, please, please Mummy, PLEASE?"

Oh no. Oh nooooooo.

I've seen the way she 'mops' and it's not my idea of mopping. She's had occasion to help Jona mop and it's not pretty. Her idea of mopping is pushing the mop a few paces and dragging it every which way haphazardly. Then dumping it and running off to do something else before coming back to it and continuing. It would take me twice as long to finish the job if she 'helped'. Oh no.

So I grit my teeth and reply.

"OK, you can help me but let me finish first. Then you can mop to your heart's content. OK?"

"OK."

So I finish the round of mopping with small fry trailing after me BEGGING me to let her mop. Please, Mummy, can I mop yet? Please, please, please can I mop? Mummy, can I please mop? By the time I'm done, she can't wait to get the mop off my hands and do her share of the mopping. Of course, that includes dragging it from the bathroom to the guest room and remarking, "Mummy, look! I'm so good at mopping!." Then sitting on the carpet and saying, "Look, Mummy! I can mop sitting down!"

Then lying down and saying, "Now I'm very tired, I can mop lying down."

Soon she takes a break to play with her toys and telling me, "Mummy, I'm leaving the mop here. Don't touch it or take it, ah!" After 10 minutes, she takes the mop and proceeds to 'mop' saying, "You have to walk slowly coz I'm mopping. Be careful, it's very wet."

Next, "I'm flying on the mop, Mummy!", astride her mop broomstick-Bewitched style.

"Are you done yet?"

"No, not yet."

"OK, time to finish up, it's your last round."

"OK, Mummy."

Then she proceeds to heave the mop up and stick it behind me, between my back and my chair, and starts angling it up and down like a see-saw. "Look, Mummy! It can be a see-saw too!"

"OK, we're done!"

"All right. I'm done," and throws it down onto the floor and walks away, her attention focused on something else in the bedroom now.

About five minutes passes as she gets distracted with the curtains in the bedroom. Then she's out again and sees the mop lying on the floor, picks it up and starts 'mopping' again.

"Oh, I'm not done yet. A little bit more coz there's so much stuff on the floor."

The next thing I know, there's a 'plop' and small fry runs into the room. I look behind me and see the mop, broken off the handle. 

Oops. 

I run after her into the room to calm her down and reassure her the world is not going to end because the mop disintegrated. After a fierce round of hugs and a string of "It's OK", she stops hyperventilating. 

After a while, she says "I'm really sorry that I mopped so long, Mummy and then I broke the mop. I'm REALLY SORRY," and hangs her head.

Who could be angry with that? Also, the mop was old and it was time for a replacing. I just didn't know its death would come at the hands of the small fry. At least I can now chuck that old thing of a mop and get a new one. And I have this post to remember the incident by.

Ah, the pleasures of the small things in life.

Being Creative

Small fry not only loves singing and talking to herself, some of her more creative pursuits include finger hand painting and stickers. Who needs a sticker book when her face will do?

Stoooooop!! 

Not quite enough stickers on my face.

Engaging Her Playmates

Small fry has playmates at our condo complex. They're all older than her. The youngest is six.

Most days she runs around the place with Troy, the six year-old. They play catch, hide-and-seek or other manner of games that kids their age play.

One day, Troy wanted a game of hide-and-seek. For some reason only known to her, small fry was in no mood for hide-and-seek. She ignored all Troy's attempts at playing. He asked nicely, tried cajoling and in the end, went for all-out crying and stamping his foot.

"Sophia! Play hide-and-seek! Sophia! Play with me!" while bawling and stamping his feet.

Small fry coolly ignored poor Troy and told Jona she wanted to come back upstairs.

I guess that was that. So much for a productive play session.

My three year-old reduced a six year-old to a sniveling mess. God help us all when she discovers her feminine wiles.

Straight From The Horse's Mouth

I'm constantly reminding myself and remarking to the small fry that she has too many toys and that we are not getting her any more. Her toys litter the living room, take up half the closet space in the guest room and occupies many corners and walls around the apartment.

While shopping for her friend's birthday present at Toys R Us today, small fry came upon some hula hoops and promptly took one down off the hook and started playing with it. Or rather, she tried to shake her booty while hanging on to a much-too-large-for-her hoop.

I spied her in action and got daddy to look. He then said that maybe we should get her one. I wondered aloud which one to get. 

Overhearing us, small fry quipped, "I have too many toys, Mummy!" and dutifully put the hoop back. 

Looks like the child is reminding the parents about their resolve. 

Note to self: remember what you keep telling yourself. 

Gimme Some Love

Tonight, on our first night back in Singapore, I was told that while I was out attending a concert, a certain brown cow got into bed with small fry.

That's a first. Not only did he get into bed with her, he stayed at her feet till she was asleep. Then promptly went up to her face and sniffed her, his whiskers tickling her awake.

To her credit, small fry resisted the urge to bully fatty, instead taking it all in stride and giggled happily.

I guess brown cow and small fry are starting a new phase in their relationship.

A Ride In The Clouds

On our way back to Singapore from Subang, the ATR 500 turboprop aircraft sailed over a pocket of air and we felt a little pull of gravity like we'd just gone over a speed bump.

Small fry giggles and says, "Ooh, Mummy. That tickles!"

We hit another air pocket and my stomach drops again. 

Laughter from the small fry, "Another tickle!". Giggles.

Small fry's take on flight turbulence makes us adults look boringly prosaic by comparison.

Harassing The Cat

Don't be fooled. She looks like she's being tender towards the brown cow. But it's all for show. The cheeky grin on her face says it all: she just loves harassing the boy. He just takes it like a punching bag. I keep telling him to grow some claws and fight back. I tell her that he can only take so much and one day, she'll experience those claws. But they both ignore me. And so it continues...

My cat, my pillow.

Enduring the 'loving'.

My World For A Brown Cow

In general, small fry and the brown cows get along well enough. Especially when she's not trying to take him out by thumping her fists on his back or yelling at him just so that he'll leave the couch.

Pixel may be fat and somewhat stupid but he's fiercely loyal and will let the small fry do almost anything to him. So far, he hasn't extended a claw or tooth in her direction yet.

Small fry greets brown cow. Don't let the claws fool you. He's a softie.

"Even though you torture me to death, I still love you."

"If I bounce hard enough, he'll be my horsey?"

Moments like these make my day.

Failed Social Experiment

A couple of weeks back, I thought I'd take small fry to the cinema.

We were going to watch Babies since she'd thoroughly enjoyed the antics of the cross-continental babies in the trailer. In order to prepare her for the experience, I explained to her that the cinema would be dark and that it may be quite loud but that it was OK, that i she didn't like it, we could leave.

"Mmm...it's going to be loud and dark, Mummy."

So we headed off on a weekend for the 11 am show. As we were on the way, small fry kept repeating, "I'm going to the cinema with you, Mummy! We're going to watch the babies!"

When we got to the ticket counter I told the lady what show we wanted tickets for. She looked at me then at small fry in her stroller and asked if she was going in too. I said yes. She said she couldn't let us in as the show was rated NC16.

Oops. Someone forgot to check the restrictions.

Fearing the worst (small fry had so looked forward to this as I'd told her a few times that she was going to the cinema with me prior to heading there). Her facial expressions promptly screwed themselves up and she bawled on the spot.

"I want to watch!" Bawl. Yikes.

The aunty at the counter tried being helpful, saying that there was another show - Alpha and Omega - that she could watch. I wheeled her to the poster so she could look at the cute dogs wolves but she would have none of it.

In the end, I placated her with a lunch of onigiri and noodles and that we'd go right away. And that if the DVD ever came out, I'd make sure to buy it and we could watch it at home together.

Till this day she remembers the route we took to get to the cinema (it's a little offshoot from her regular route to playgroup) and she points out that, "That's where we go to the cinema. I wanted to watch the Babies but the old woman at the counter said I couldn't watch, then I cried and cried and cried."

Square Peg

On the last day of term a couple of weeks back, small fry's class had an end-of-term party.

When I went to pick her up from playgroup, I found most of the kids decked out in face paint; the boys were mostly animals. There are only three girls in her group; two of them had a rose each painted on one cheek.

And the small fry?

At first, I thought she'd had a major sunburn: her face was all pink! On closer inspection, I thought it looked like a jellyfish, but she doesn't have a jellyfish among her toys. Instead she has a couple of beloved octopi. So I said, "Oh hey! You're a pink octopus!"

"No, Mummy. I'm a jellyfish na!"

Yup, the small fry is a jellyfish among the roses.

What's All The Fuss About?

On a recent visit to the bookstore, small fry convinced Gong-gong to get her a magazine. On the way to the cashier, small fry took her own sweet time to get to the counter, stopping every once in a while to check out the rest of the merchandise on display.

She ambled on so slowly that a line was starting to form behind her and afraid that she'd hold it up any longer, Gong-gong promptly told her, "Hurry up, Sophia! There are other people behind you."

She retorted, "Don't make a fuss, Gong-gong!" and casually strolled up to him at the cashier counter.

Needless to say, the people behind her had a good laugh. Including the guy manning the cashier.