This morning, during breakfast, Son No 3 asked my hubby the meaning of "gay".
*Pause*
My hubby was tongue-tied for a while. I quickly interjected that "gay" means happy. One tends to forget that this young child is growing up in a fairly cloistered environment in a conservative society. What else could "gay" mean?
Then my innocent son took it one step further - he began practising his new-found knowledge by saying, "I am gay! I am gay!"
Err... this will not do. What if he said it publicly? Not that I have anything against gays, but still... it may offend some people and we must not forget that in this country, homosexuality is a crime.
To rectify the situation, I had no choice but to tell Son No 3 that he should just say "I am happy." I told him "happy" is a better word to use than "gay". No further explanation needed or provided.
Luckily, Son No 3 did not pursue the matter further and I was let off the hook.
*Relief*
But I am not the type to be satisfied with "curing the symptoms". I had to find out the root cause. What he asked this morning kept gnawing away at the back of my mind.
So later in the afternoon, after school, I casually asked Son No 3 where he learnt the word "gay". Son No 3 told me he discovered the word "gay" from YouTube. Alarm bells started ringing. I asked Son No 3 to show me the video that he had watched. I was surprised it was entitled, "Spongebob: If You Were Gay". To those without pre-school children, Spongebob is a popular cartoon character with a regular TV series. All my three children like to watch this cartoon.
But it was not a real episode from Spongebob, the cartoon series. The video was the product of some people putting together some Spongebob scenes and editing them to certain words to create a new video. Aiyoh, people are so free-ah.... kind of wu-liao, you know. Luckily, the video was quite innocent, no graphic images as I had feared ... But it goes to show once again what a minefield the internet can be.
Hmm... the two younger boys already knew that they should not simply go into YouTube without my permission. But since Son No 2 discovered that he could watch his favourite Pokemon episodes from YouTube, he has been visiting that site more often and thinking that that's all he is doing, I have relaxed my guard.
Looks like now I have to increase my vigilance again... Or maybe what this stay-at-home mom really needs is some sort of full-time Nanny Guard that will do a good job. Yes, that's probably my next course of action...
P/S: I hope Son No 3 will not ask me the meaning of "queer" next - I notice the word was spoken in the same video!
Showing posts with label Growing Pains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Growing Pains. Show all posts
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Thursday, 9 April 2009
What A Wonderful World
Exactly one year ago, Son No 1 complained that he was not able to read clearly what his teachers wrote on the white board. We brought him to the optometrist and it was found that he had slight myopia (around 100). Although the optometrist thought he did not really need glasses, we made a pair for him anyway.Son No 1 only wore his glasses during lessons. At first, we just let it be. But since late last year, we realised that his vision had deteriorated somewhat. But still, he wouldn't wear his glasses regularly. It became frustrating talking to him because he was literally blur. His world has shrunk to less than 20 feet in radius around him.
Why didn't he want to wear his glasses? In one word - vanity.
It is something that I find hard to understand. This is what I told him - that the world is a beautiful place and God has given him this wonderful gift of sight and it is such a pity that he is not using this gift fully. I would be distressed if I see someone walking to me and I cannot see the face - should I smile or not? I wouldn't want to miss out on interesting things happening around me that others talked about. And I wouldn't want to see trees as blobs of green - I want to appreciate every single leaf.
I was not just saying all that to make a point. I really meant it. My sight is very precious to me. In fact, now that I am getting older, my biggest complaint is that I am not able to read well. Yes, long-sightedness has caught up with me and it is such an inconvenience.
Anyway, Son No 1 finally changed the lens to his spectacles today. His myopia had gone up from around 100 to 200. And today, he has started wearing his glasses more than usual. From his excited exclamations about the ordinary things around him, one might be forgiven if one thought he was someone learning to see for the first time.
Yes, dear, it is a wonderful world.....
I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.
I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.
The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you.
I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.
Sunday, 5 April 2009
12 Going On 13
Today, Son No 1 joined his classmates for a hang-out at Mid-Valley for the entire afternoon. Note that "hang-out" is the politically-correct term - not an outing, a gathering or an excursion, all of which sounded too "schoolish", so I was told.The classmates have been planning this hang-out for weeks, chatting almost every night over Facebook or MSN - where to go, what to do, which day should they go. You may wonder, since they see one another in school everyday, why don't they just talk about it in school, but ah, that's not how young people communicate nowadays. I have seen youngsters sitting around the table, "talking" to each other on Facebook, lol!
This was a hang-out that Son No 1 almost missed. Based on some earlier plans that we had, our whole family should be in Singapore today. I told him well in advance of our plans so that he could canvass among his friends not to have the hang-out today, but still, the majority voted for today. When the voting results came out, Son No 1 hid his disappointment well - but he knew his priorities - we were going to Singapore for Qing Ming - and that was something that was non-bargainable. I am proud of his maturity over this clash.
Then, by a stroke of luck, our plans unexpectedly changed and we were back in KL yesterday, enabling him to make it for the hang-out in the end.
Son No 1 was the first to arrive for the 11:30am appointment time. He was already all dressed up and ready to go by 10am, which was pretty unusual - his penchant for last-minute preparation is legendary. Unfortunately, his friends were tardy. We waited there with him for half an hour before going off and only 3 other boys had arrived. The girls were all going to be late - what a shame. But in the end, they all made it and they went bowling, had McDonald's and watched a movie together. You know, basically hanging out....
My firstborn has grown up much this past one year. His voice has deepened and he is more outgoing. Clothes and hair gel are now on his shopping list and black suddenly became a favourite colour. He is both more considerate and more self-centered, it depends. He is both the nurturing brother and the bullying brother, rolled into one. He is both more chatty and more silent, depending. Like the weather, his taste and predilection can change overnight.
Ya, it's the onset of puberty. There are both positives and negatives associated with this adolescent period. I can't help but notice the growing maturity in thoughts and speech in my firstborn. Nevertheless, the negatives have not escaped my dear son. Mood swings are more common now. For mild moodiness, I would just ignore it. I may roll my eyes, or pass a sarcastic remark of my own, or grumble to my spouse, but largely, I can understand it and would put it down to hormones.
However, when it comes to excessive displays of temper or moodiness, I will not condone it. Hormones or not. While I may understand the scientific basis of the biological response, it is something else if we let such hormones control or take over our lives. Humans are blessed with the faculty to think and this is what sets us apart from other animals. We can choose how to behave and hormones should never be used as an excuse.
Just like my son facing uncharted waters as he enters his teenage years in two months' time, I face my own virgin territories as I challenge myself to remain an effective, relevant parent as my child grows. I have never been a mom to one who is at the brink of adolescence before. Nevertheless, whether it's 2 going on 3, 12 going on 13, or 22 going on 23, the same basic principles should apply to make it work: Love, respect, honesty - from both sides.
Baby, I think we should do fine.
Sunday, 16 November 2008
Piano Class
"When you're a little kid... you're a little bit of everything. Artist, scientist, athlete, scholar. Sometimes it seems like growing up is the process of giving those things up, one by one. I guess we all have one thing we regret giving up. One thing we really miss... that we gave up because we were too lazy... or we couldn't stick it out..."
Diehard fans of the hit TV series, Wonder Years (1988-1993), will recognise this narration from the protagonist, Kevin Arnold, in one of the episodes. In this episode, Kevin recalled the arduous piano lessons that he had to take from his cantakerous piano teacher and how he desperately tried to prove himself in a concert. He subsequently gave up piano and twenty years later, reminisced about those days with regret.
Incidentally, Trivia No 1: It was from this episode that I first heard and fell in love with the classical piece by Johann Pachelbel, "Canon in D major". Trivia No 2: Son No 1 would have been named Kevin if we had wanted a Christian name for him - just shows that I really loved the series. [In fact, in his cohort, there are many boys named Kevin, and I am sure their parents were similarly influenced!]
Reminiscence aside, when I look at my boys now, the universal themes featured in the show still struck a resonance with me, like this one that I extracted above. As parents, we try to expose the children to many things, not because we want to pressure them to excel in all activities, but it's more like, to give them a chance to discover their talents or interest. Sometimes, however, interest takes time to develop and one needs to stick it out. That is the difficult part.
Son No 1 gave up piano when he was 6, after attending classes for two years - which is not bad, I guess. I allowed him to give up because he would be crying over the piano when practising, so what's the point? But sometimes, I do wonder, would he have learnt better discipline in life if we had insisted that he continued? A music education does instil discipline, if nothing else.
Son No 2 is now learning piano. This is his third attempt - or rather, my third attempt - at getting him going at it. The first attempt was in a class setting in a music school but the teacher was fierce and demoralising and the class was moving too fast. I then switched him to a private teacher who came to the house - but this teacher was uninspiring, to say the least. Now, I send Son No 2 to a music school for a one-to-one lesson every week and it is so far so good. Teacher Jennifer clicks with Son No 2 and I can see she is a good teacher - "good" as in she can relate to young children and adopts suitable teaching pedagogy. The only tough part is trying to get Son No 2 to practise at home. He is not enthusiastic, but luckily, not obstinate. I try not to pressurise him too much and so, I set the bar really low. But I do insist that he tinkles on the piano almost every day - 5 or 10 minutes will do.
I am now contemplating starting Son No 3 on piano next year. It will be interesting to see how things will work out with him... After all, one never knows and the mother can only hope!
Diehard fans of the hit TV series, Wonder Years (1988-1993), will recognise this narration from the protagonist, Kevin Arnold, in one of the episodes. In this episode, Kevin recalled the arduous piano lessons that he had to take from his cantakerous piano teacher and how he desperately tried to prove himself in a concert. He subsequently gave up piano and twenty years later, reminisced about those days with regret.
Incidentally, Trivia No 1: It was from this episode that I first heard and fell in love with the classical piece by Johann Pachelbel, "Canon in D major". Trivia No 2: Son No 1 would have been named Kevin if we had wanted a Christian name for him - just shows that I really loved the series. [In fact, in his cohort, there are many boys named Kevin, and I am sure their parents were similarly influenced!]
Reminiscence aside, when I look at my boys now, the universal themes featured in the show still struck a resonance with me, like this one that I extracted above. As parents, we try to expose the children to many things, not because we want to pressure them to excel in all activities, but it's more like, to give them a chance to discover their talents or interest. Sometimes, however, interest takes time to develop and one needs to stick it out. That is the difficult part.
Son No 1 gave up piano when he was 6, after attending classes for two years - which is not bad, I guess. I allowed him to give up because he would be crying over the piano when practising, so what's the point? But sometimes, I do wonder, would he have learnt better discipline in life if we had insisted that he continued? A music education does instil discipline, if nothing else.
Son No 2 is now learning piano. This is his third attempt - or rather, my third attempt - at getting him going at it. The first attempt was in a class setting in a music school but the teacher was fierce and demoralising and the class was moving too fast. I then switched him to a private teacher who came to the house - but this teacher was uninspiring, to say the least. Now, I send Son No 2 to a music school for a one-to-one lesson every week and it is so far so good. Teacher Jennifer clicks with Son No 2 and I can see she is a good teacher - "good" as in she can relate to young children and adopts suitable teaching pedagogy. The only tough part is trying to get Son No 2 to practise at home. He is not enthusiastic, but luckily, not obstinate. I try not to pressurise him too much and so, I set the bar really low. But I do insist that he tinkles on the piano almost every day - 5 or 10 minutes will do.
I am now contemplating starting Son No 3 on piano next year. It will be interesting to see how things will work out with him... After all, one never knows and the mother can only hope!
Saturday, 15 November 2008
Fear Of Death
It started a few nights ago. Out of the blue, Son No 3 came up to me, saying he did not want me to die. I had absolutely no idea what brought that on. I gave him a hug but asked him why did he say that - but he was unable to answer. On my part, being scrupulously honest, I was unable to promise him that I would not die. I also could not tell him that death was something everyone would go through sooner or later. I was stuck for words.
But that was not it. Over the last couple of days, this thought of death continued to harbour on No 3's mind. He asked me how old I was and then after some quick mental calculation, stated, "When you are 80-something, and I am 40-something, I still don't want you to die. I want you to take care of me..." Another occasion: "If somebody is sick, and cannot get better, will he die?"
Is this pre-occupation with death natural for a five-year-old? My other two boys have never voiced such fears. As always, I turned to my literature for answers. And indeed, it is there. Fear Of Death. Under the chapter about Five-Year-Olds. Other documented Fears: (these I know) thunder, heavy rains, sirens, the dark, solitude.
On talking about Death, the book advised that we tell the children that "we will be together for a long, long time". Ya, I should have thought about that. It is also a good idea to have a gradual learning experience about Death, which Son No 3 had when our pet hamster and fishes died. Another "learning experience" with Death was when we went to the funeral of my Aunt in Telok Intan in August this year. The trip left an impression on them, I know, as they sometimes still made references to that trip.
I do not consciously bring up the subject of Death but it happens. I sometimes discuss current events with my sons. For example, I remember showing newpaper photos of the Sichuan earthquake to the boys, the devastation it caused and the thousands who died. They were particularly relieved to find that there is no earthquake in Malaysia, Singapore and Australia. They were scared to die.
And yesterday, when the news of the white tigers killing the zookeeper in Singapore was splashed in the local newspapers, I also unthinkingly pointed out the news item to the children. Their reactions were contrasting. Son No 2 was impressed by the tigers' strength (he probably did not see the reality of the situation and treated it more like a fantasy), Son No 3 asked whether the tigers were bad (I explained to him that the zookeeper should not have gone into the enclosure - "huh...oh, you mean the cage?"), Son No 1 gave his classic response (a nonchalant grunt).
But all this talk about Death reminded me of a movie I watched when I was a young girl. The movie, Sunshine (1973 - ya, I just googled it!), was about a young mother having terminal cancer. In anticipation of her death, and to leave something for her young daughter to remember her by, she made self-recordings on tapes that would be played during each of her daughter's future birthdays. For example, for the daughter's 16th birthday, long after the mother is gone, the daughter would still be able to hear her mother's voice when she played the 16th birthday tape. The show left a deep impression on me and many others, I believe. The *sob* factor was very high and John Denver sang the song from the show, "Sunshine On My Shoulders".
Now, if I had known that I would die, I would follow the example and similarly leave words for the children, but in the form of letters - instead of recording videos - words being my forte, not speech. And if death was unanticipated and I were not around to watch the children grow up, they should be able to read this blog of mine and hear my thoughts. And they should feel safe and protected in the love that I have for them and be assured that I would always be there for them, if not physically, then in spirit.
Background music: "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston.
But that was not it. Over the last couple of days, this thought of death continued to harbour on No 3's mind. He asked me how old I was and then after some quick mental calculation, stated, "When you are 80-something, and I am 40-something, I still don't want you to die. I want you to take care of me..." Another occasion: "If somebody is sick, and cannot get better, will he die?"
Is this pre-occupation with death natural for a five-year-old? My other two boys have never voiced such fears. As always, I turned to my literature for answers. And indeed, it is there. Fear Of Death. Under the chapter about Five-Year-Olds. Other documented Fears: (these I know) thunder, heavy rains, sirens, the dark, solitude.
On talking about Death, the book advised that we tell the children that "we will be together for a long, long time". Ya, I should have thought about that. It is also a good idea to have a gradual learning experience about Death, which Son No 3 had when our pet hamster and fishes died. Another "learning experience" with Death was when we went to the funeral of my Aunt in Telok Intan in August this year. The trip left an impression on them, I know, as they sometimes still made references to that trip.
I do not consciously bring up the subject of Death but it happens. I sometimes discuss current events with my sons. For example, I remember showing newpaper photos of the Sichuan earthquake to the boys, the devastation it caused and the thousands who died. They were particularly relieved to find that there is no earthquake in Malaysia, Singapore and Australia. They were scared to die.
And yesterday, when the news of the white tigers killing the zookeeper in Singapore was splashed in the local newspapers, I also unthinkingly pointed out the news item to the children. Their reactions were contrasting. Son No 2 was impressed by the tigers' strength (he probably did not see the reality of the situation and treated it more like a fantasy), Son No 3 asked whether the tigers were bad (I explained to him that the zookeeper should not have gone into the enclosure - "huh...oh, you mean the cage?"), Son No 1 gave his classic response (a nonchalant grunt).
But all this talk about Death reminded me of a movie I watched when I was a young girl. The movie, Sunshine (1973 - ya, I just googled it!), was about a young mother having terminal cancer. In anticipation of her death, and to leave something for her young daughter to remember her by, she made self-recordings on tapes that would be played during each of her daughter's future birthdays. For example, for the daughter's 16th birthday, long after the mother is gone, the daughter would still be able to hear her mother's voice when she played the 16th birthday tape. The show left a deep impression on me and many others, I believe. The *sob* factor was very high and John Denver sang the song from the show, "Sunshine On My Shoulders".
Now, if I had known that I would die, I would follow the example and similarly leave words for the children, but in the form of letters - instead of recording videos - words being my forte, not speech. And if death was unanticipated and I were not around to watch the children grow up, they should be able to read this blog of mine and hear my thoughts. And they should feel safe and protected in the love that I have for them and be assured that I would always be there for them, if not physically, then in spirit.
Background music: "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston.
Friday, 19 September 2008
The Best Red Indian Dancer
Today, Son No 3 came home with the script for Peter Pan - I knew that his class was putting up this play for the school concert in November. Son No 3 was really excited - he told me he needed to learn the parts for John (one of the three children in the family). I was surprised because all along, he was in the Red Indian dance, one of the segments in the play. He did not have a speaking part.
The teacher left a message with Son No 3 for me to call her which I did as soon as I reached home. She told me that the part of John was actually given to Wayan (yes, the same Wayan that I have written about earlier). However, as they were worried that Wayan might not turn up, they needed a back-up. If Wayan did turn up, Son No 3 would continue to perform the Red Indian dance.
I thought about it. I did not want to put Son No 3 through all this - learn all the lines and then not be in the play. I honestly do not mind if it was for a "real" back-up function. But knowing the school situation intimately, I find the choice of Wayan to play one of the 7 speaking roles is really questionable. One might say it is not fair to speculate but come on, we are not living in la-la land. No, even at pre-school level, there are these unseen forces that are at play.
I do not know who made the decision to let Wayan have a speaking part and I don't care. If the teacher is worried, I am not surprised at all. But don't throw the ball at my court. I am not going to catch it.
I have since told the teacher that I will not be coaching Son No 3 on the lines since he will not be in the play (ya, the other thing is - I was supposed to coach him at home. I pay the exorbitant school fees and end up doing the work).
I have also explained to Son No 3, not in so many words, but he understands that Wayan is the one who is going to play John. No problem with him. Son No 3 is quite happy to remain in the Red Indian dance. So is Mummy.
The teacher left a message with Son No 3 for me to call her which I did as soon as I reached home. She told me that the part of John was actually given to Wayan (yes, the same Wayan that I have written about earlier). However, as they were worried that Wayan might not turn up, they needed a back-up. If Wayan did turn up, Son No 3 would continue to perform the Red Indian dance.
I thought about it. I did not want to put Son No 3 through all this - learn all the lines and then not be in the play. I honestly do not mind if it was for a "real" back-up function. But knowing the school situation intimately, I find the choice of Wayan to play one of the 7 speaking roles is really questionable. One might say it is not fair to speculate but come on, we are not living in la-la land. No, even at pre-school level, there are these unseen forces that are at play.
I do not know who made the decision to let Wayan have a speaking part and I don't care. If the teacher is worried, I am not surprised at all. But don't throw the ball at my court. I am not going to catch it.
I have since told the teacher that I will not be coaching Son No 3 on the lines since he will not be in the play (ya, the other thing is - I was supposed to coach him at home. I pay the exorbitant school fees and end up doing the work).
I have also explained to Son No 3, not in so many words, but he understands that Wayan is the one who is going to play John. No problem with him. Son No 3 is quite happy to remain in the Red Indian dance. So is Mummy.
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
Battle With Mosquitoes
Yesterday, Son No 3 told me that he wanted a frog for his pet.
Why, I asked, taken by surprise.
He told me in a huff, "... because frogs eat mosquitoes!"
That about describes the deep enmity that my Son No 3 feels towards mosquitoes.
Son No 3 is a magnet for mosquitoes. He sleeps in the same bedroom as Son No 2 but he is the one who ends up with all the mosquito bites. When we go to the playground, I will make sure that he is drenched in anti-mosquito spray, but he will still end up with mosquito bites. The mosquitoes here, I am convinced, are already immuned to whatever means that man has ever thought up of to obliterate their presence.
In our house, there is a wide array of anti-mosquito devices. We have tried all types of devices that are offered in this enterprising market. Such devices claim to do some of the following:
- attract them by light and CO2, then trap them
- send them to death by electroculation
- repel them through high frequency pitch
- repel and destroy them through chemical means.
Meanwhile, I have stipulated that Son No 3 must wear his long pyjamas pants at all times when he is at home. At first, he was happy about it, but later he complained that the mosquitoes would then go after his feet. So now he can wear socks in the house if he chooses to. Poor thing.
It's not only in the house that Son No 3 has the mosquito problem. There was one afternoon when he cried all the way in the car coming home from school. His legs were itchy from mosquito bites in school and he must have been feeling very frustrated. However, as it was the "tantrum" type of cry, I chose to ignore him. Though I sympathised with him, he must learn to manage his frustration and have better control of himself. No choice.
And he has learnt. That's why his protest is now more mature and a matter-of-fact. I'm referring to his comment about getting a frog for a pet, of course!
Sigh! When will this battle with mosquitoes end?
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Don't Sweat The Small Stuff
Lest people think that my children are angels, I can state categorically that they are not. They are humans :) I realise that my posts here tend to focus on the positives and it is timely to provide some balance here. So, today I am going to write about those niggling things that they do that can get on one's nerves.
As you read, especially those who know my three sons well, you might think that, aiyah, what's the big deal. I agree it's no big deal. It's just that when it happens frequently, well, it does test your patience.
Son No 1 is a son that any mother can be proud of. But when it comes to time management, there's much to improve. He knows we are going out and we tell him repeatedly we are leaving at 10:45am, and at 10:45am, he's still not dressed. Or he has not brushed him teeth. Or, worse, he has to finish his mission, referring of course to some computer game that he is playing. We all know this bad habit of his and we have highlighted to him that it is not good to have people waiting for him. Sometimes, he tries. But at other times he is too dreamy, gets carried away by what he is doing, or simply overestimates the speed at which he can accomplish tasks like bathing. There's still much to work on.
With Son No 2, he has this bad habit of touching everything that he sees. We know babies learn by sensorial exploration but Son No 2 is 7 years old. Walking across the carpark, he would drag his forefinger along the dirty dusty cars, nonchalantly studying the trace that he leaves behind. In the bakery, he would feel the buns on display with his fingers. In the supermarket, he would poke at the fruits and fish. And how do you think this frazzled mom would react? I know his actions are probably not deliberate, to some extent, it's instinctive, but it's time he learns to have better control of his habits.
Some children are squealers, others are not. Son No 3 belongs to the former category. When he gets excited, like in a game of catching, he would squeal at the highest pitch possible at the top of his voice. This is not an age-related issue because in a similar situation, at the same age, Son No 2 would just be giggling and laughing while Son No 1 would just beam happily. Son No 3's squeals are not pleasing to the ear. And I do get annoyed. I can't help it.
I know we are not supposed to sweat the small stuff (I have read the book) and I know what I have illustrated above is smaller than small, punier than puny. It's just that I am this imperfect human too. Nevertheless, I will try my best to "become more patient" (rule #13), "imagine the people in your life as tiny infants" (rule #27), "see the innocence" (rule #36), "breathe before you speak" (rule #55) and "count to ten" (rule #63).
As you read, especially those who know my three sons well, you might think that, aiyah, what's the big deal. I agree it's no big deal. It's just that when it happens frequently, well, it does test your patience.
Son No 1 is a son that any mother can be proud of. But when it comes to time management, there's much to improve. He knows we are going out and we tell him repeatedly we are leaving at 10:45am, and at 10:45am, he's still not dressed. Or he has not brushed him teeth. Or, worse, he has to finish his mission, referring of course to some computer game that he is playing. We all know this bad habit of his and we have highlighted to him that it is not good to have people waiting for him. Sometimes, he tries. But at other times he is too dreamy, gets carried away by what he is doing, or simply overestimates the speed at which he can accomplish tasks like bathing. There's still much to work on.
With Son No 2, he has this bad habit of touching everything that he sees. We know babies learn by sensorial exploration but Son No 2 is 7 years old. Walking across the carpark, he would drag his forefinger along the dirty dusty cars, nonchalantly studying the trace that he leaves behind. In the bakery, he would feel the buns on display with his fingers. In the supermarket, he would poke at the fruits and fish. And how do you think this frazzled mom would react? I know his actions are probably not deliberate, to some extent, it's instinctive, but it's time he learns to have better control of his habits.
Some children are squealers, others are not. Son No 3 belongs to the former category. When he gets excited, like in a game of catching, he would squeal at the highest pitch possible at the top of his voice. This is not an age-related issue because in a similar situation, at the same age, Son No 2 would just be giggling and laughing while Son No 1 would just beam happily. Son No 3's squeals are not pleasing to the ear. And I do get annoyed. I can't help it.
I know we are not supposed to sweat the small stuff (I have read the book) and I know what I have illustrated above is smaller than small, punier than puny. It's just that I am this imperfect human too. Nevertheless, I will try my best to "become more patient" (rule #13), "imagine the people in your life as tiny infants" (rule #27), "see the innocence" (rule #36), "breathe before you speak" (rule #55) and "count to ten" (rule #63).
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
Blackie - RIP
Blackie, one of our two pet hamsters, passed away suddenly this afternoon. Time of death: around 4 pm. Cause: Unknown.
We broke the news to the children just before dinner. They took it matter-of-factly. They did wonder why she died but we have no answer. Son No 1 started to count the number of pet deaths so far and this included 2 terrapins and >12 fishes. They remembered that the first terrapin which died was buried near the barbeque pit at Bishan.
We decided to bury Blackie in the grounds of the condominium. There was no ceremony or anything like that. We found a suitable spot, dug a deep enough hole and said bye-bye to Blackie.
On the way up in the lift, Son No 3 asked why we needed to bury Blackie. I said something about the Nitrogen Cycle and that its decomposition will provide food for the plants. Oh well, I am sure he did not understand it but sometimes I do resort to hiding behind scientific explanations because to simplify things can make things real complex. Go figure.
We broke the news to the children just before dinner. They took it matter-of-factly. They did wonder why she died but we have no answer. Son No 1 started to count the number of pet deaths so far and this included 2 terrapins and >12 fishes. They remembered that the first terrapin which died was buried near the barbeque pit at Bishan.
We decided to bury Blackie in the grounds of the condominium. There was no ceremony or anything like that. We found a suitable spot, dug a deep enough hole and said bye-bye to Blackie.
On the way up in the lift, Son No 3 asked why we needed to bury Blackie. I said something about the Nitrogen Cycle and that its decomposition will provide food for the plants. Oh well, I am sure he did not understand it but sometimes I do resort to hiding behind scientific explanations because to simplify things can make things real complex. Go figure.
Saturday, 19 July 2008
Primary One Exam Blues
Son No 2 will be having his term exams this week. He is in Primary One. Can you hazard a guess how many papers he has to sit for?
Let's count:
Let's count:
- Chinese Writing
- Chinese Grammar
- Malay Writing
- Malay Grammar
- English
- Math in Chinese
- Math in English
- Science in Chinese
- Science in English
- Moral Education
Incredible but true. Ten papers over two weeks. I am thankful that Son No 2 is above average in intelligence. If he puts in the effort, he can do it.
But we are talking about a 7-year-old boy. How much time do we want him to spend on his studies? I tend to think I am pretty liberal in not "forcing" the child to study. It is pointless. But to handle all those subjects? It is pretty daunting for the child.
The syllabi are very heavy for all the subjects (except English). I do my best to guide him, especially in Malay. The Primary One syllabus for Malay is over the top. They learn things that are of little use. Seriously.
I will give you an example. They learn the different parts of an ayam jantan - a cock. You would expect them to learn about the wing, the beak, the tail, the feet. Fair enough. But no, not only that. They are expected to know the name of that little red thing on top of the head, which I now learn is called the "balung". Don't know its English name. Also the little red thing dangling below the cock's head like a beard . It is called "pial". Don't know its English name. Also that little short sharp thing at the feet - called the "susuh". Don't know its English name.
Can someone tell me, for the love of God, when is my child ever going to start a conversation or have a chance to talk about those obscure parts of the cock (as in the ayam jantan)!!!!
Ok, Ok, back to the topic at hand (God, it's good to ventilate those frustrations) - it shows the stress is not only on the child, but also on the Mummy!!!!
As a caring parent, I plan his study time (not more than an hour a day) - plan how he spends that one hour productively, that means, tailoring exercises that gain maximum mileage - plan how to engage him during that one hour by varying the type of activities.... Above all, I am careful not to kill his interest in his studies. So far so good.
There is much we can do about our education system here. But I guess whatever it is, it is still better to learn more things than not to learn anything at all. And at least, the teachers in his school are caring. It is the system that is misplaced.
Luckily, as a trained educator, I know what are the realistic expectations of my child. Marks and position in class/level are not key indicators of the cognitive ability of a child. I know my child's strengths and weaknesses more than anyone. My challenge is really not to let these externalities affect my child's self-esteem. If I ever see the threat of that happening, it will be time to take the child out of the system.
Thursday, 17 July 2008
Baby Teeth Tales
Son No 3 is over the moon.
Last night, I discovered that two of his lower incisors are shaky. On closer examination, I could see the buds of the equivalent adult teeth sprouting behind the baby teeth. He was at once both excited and anxious. Grinning from ear to ear, he asked whether he would swallow those shaky teeth when he was sleeping? What if he accidentally swallowed them when he was eating? He wanted to see the dentist straight away. Well, it is my job to reassure him - that's what mothers do.
However, Son No 2, older by two years, is dismayed. All his baby teeth are still intact. Before this, he has been telling me about his friends in school having their baby teeth dropping off and that he was waiting for his turn. It is a double blow now that even his younger brother is having shaky teeth.
Son No 2 asked me wistfully, "Are adult teeth or baby teeth better?"
There is only one answer I can give, "They are the same."
"Why is it that I still have my baby teeth?"
"Well, that is because your baby teeth are very strong."
I have given this same reply 5 years ago as Son No 1 was also a late developer of adult teeth. I remember he too was feeling kind of inferior to/envious of his friends.
Son No 1, now older and wiser and who himself just had his own baby pre-molar extracted to make room for a new one, has been rather helpful on this issue. He comforted Son No 2, saying that his baby teeth also took a long time to be replaced. Son No 2 who looked up to him was somewhat convinced.
Children, sigh... whatever their age, they have their own worries:)
Last night, I discovered that two of his lower incisors are shaky. On closer examination, I could see the buds of the equivalent adult teeth sprouting behind the baby teeth. He was at once both excited and anxious. Grinning from ear to ear, he asked whether he would swallow those shaky teeth when he was sleeping? What if he accidentally swallowed them when he was eating? He wanted to see the dentist straight away. Well, it is my job to reassure him - that's what mothers do.
However, Son No 2, older by two years, is dismayed. All his baby teeth are still intact. Before this, he has been telling me about his friends in school having their baby teeth dropping off and that he was waiting for his turn. It is a double blow now that even his younger brother is having shaky teeth.
Son No 2 asked me wistfully, "Are adult teeth or baby teeth better?"
There is only one answer I can give, "They are the same."
"Why is it that I still have my baby teeth?"
"Well, that is because your baby teeth are very strong."
I have given this same reply 5 years ago as Son No 1 was also a late developer of adult teeth. I remember he too was feeling kind of inferior to/envious of his friends.
Son No 1, now older and wiser and who himself just had his own baby pre-molar extracted to make room for a new one, has been rather helpful on this issue. He comforted Son No 2, saying that his baby teeth also took a long time to be replaced. Son No 2 who looked up to him was somewhat convinced.
Children, sigh... whatever their age, they have their own worries:)
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