My little sunshine

She found a spot of sunshine this morning and spent some time catching it before going to school.

She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s what I do every morning too.

How I know I’ve really gotta get on it

Can you get married in university?

*Horror scenes of her eloping when she’s 19*

No! Of course not! Nobody, nobody gets married in university! You must wait till you’ve finished university. You can only get married when you’re out of university. Even then, it’s probably a good idea to wait for a while before deciding to get married. Do you understand?

Then why are you married? To Papa?

*Hubby bursts into mad laughter*

Oh, me. Erm. I’ve actually finished university. It’s just that I… erm… I like it so much, I decided to continue being in the university. Erm, yes. I finished university, then I married your Papa, then I decided to continue being in the university. You understand? You must finish university before you can even think of marrying anybody.

She looked half-convinced. Hubby sounded like he was going to asphyxiate laughing. I think I’ve better get back to writing that dissertation.

Toy collections from her grandaunt

Who wants to guess where the lucky girl’s grandaunt works?
(If you know, it means you’ve been collecting too!)

A nasty charity case (and a nag too)

On the way to music class, we were approached by a bunch of teenage boys selling flags.

What are they doing, Mummy?

They are asking me for money.

Why?

They are trying to help people who don’t have money. So they ask everybody whether they will like to help the people who don’t have money. If you’ll like to help, you give them some money, and they will help you pass the money to the poor people, who can then use the money to buy food to eat, to buy clothes to wear, to send their babies to school. You know all these things need money, right?

Yes, I know. Like you, Mummy.

Huh? Like me?

Like you, Mummy. You don’t have money. You are poor.

Halfway through class, we were confronted by a witch and her cat in the new song we were learning.

I’m scared! There’s a witch!

But that’s me. And that’s you. You’re my cat. Not all witches are nasty. There are good witches and bad witches, just like there are good cat and bad cats. There are good people and bad people, there are good and bad everything. You know that, right? It’s just that some people look good but they are actually nasty, some people look nasty but they are actually very nice. Can you name me one person who looks nasty but who is actually very nice?

You.

Me?! ME?! I look nasty??!

Yes, but you’re actually very nice.

But I look very nasty?!

It’s ok, Mummy. You just look very nasty, you’re actually very nice.

So I almost always say no when she asks to buy something (which, to her credit, is a rare enough occurrence). But how did the lectures on the value of money (hard work and prudence, etc, etc) translate into my being a charity case?! And I look very nasty??!

Special

This is why she is the apple of his eye.

Because she has given her heart to him.

(Ok, she actually gave that heart to me first when she brought it home from school. But she changed her mind a couple of weeks later and gave it to him instead. When I pouted, she cajoled, “He’s your papa, he’s your papa. It’s for your papa.”)

1st Ballet Exam (or any exams for that matter)

We spent the last 6 months going for class twice to thrice a week.

Waiting (extreme right).

Going through their dance routine (second from left).

Her favourite finger exercise (second from left).

Then my prima donna went in for her debut!

Note to self for her next exam:

1. Let her wear regular cotton socks, not silky stocking socks. According to her teacher, she was a bit distracted by her slippery socks and kept pulling them up. Eeps!

2. Do not gossip about the examiner in the restrooms. Ms B walked in on us!

February

♥♥ Valentine’s Day ♥♥

Evening stroll along the beach

Candlelight dinner
(Indian food is Mr Fluffy Hubby’s way of showing me love. She complained the flickering lights hurt her eyes… but it didn’t seem to have got in the way of her enjoying her food.)

Train ride into the night

♥♥ My Birthday ♥♥

They brought me for chili crabs.

She gathered orange flowers from the ground for me.

He gave me a bouquet of red roses.
(And a gold watch. And went along with my insane requests for McDonalds apple pie & fries and a family photoshoot back at home.)

She recorded a surprise birthday song for me on my iPhone — all by herself!

I am loved.

How I know she’s a cat

She looks around for birdies all the time.

She curls her hands into claws. Her favourite little brown sparrow!

She stalks birdie. Ssshhhhh…

She examines the ground. How did birdie get away?! HOW?!

All that fish and chips during the 1st trimester of my pregnancy — it was a sign of things to come. Say, meow.

Seeing red is not the same as seeing pink

There’s this thing that her teachers tell her: We are not angry; we are upset.

Teacher J is upset with RZ because she doesn’t say goodbye to her mummy every morning. She said loudly to RZ, “I am very upset with you.” RZ cried.

Was she angry with RZ?

No, she was not angry. She was upset.

What is the difference between angry and upset?

The difference is… when you are angry your voice is loud, when you are upset your voice is… also loud… There is no difference.

So your teachers tell you that they are not angry, they are upset. But actually, it’s the same thing?

Yes, it’s the same. Ha ha ha!

There is no difference. It’s the same — angry and upset!

Ha ha ha!

Then there’s also this thing with Mr Fluffy Hubby:

Why are you teaching her to be subversive?!

I’m going to roll over and sleep now. Because I’m sure you’re not angry with me. You’re just… upset. Ha ha ha!

There is nothing wrong with anger. Deal with it.

There are stuff that are way worse and way scarier than anger, such as the denial of anger, the suppression of anger, the repression of anger. Those are the ways in which psychopaths are made.

So says me, the angriest person I know. Ha ha ha!

Twins

She took this photo during her last class with the twins.

L, the older twin, painted the tsunami. C, the younger twin, painted the Christmas tree. So similar and so different.

Half a year ago, we got to know the twins in music class. Soon after, they joined her for ballet. Then, art class.

Out of all the rest of the children in all the classes, the twins gravitate only towards her. She’s like an in-between version of the both of them. Almost as bold as L and almost as dreamy as C; not as feisty as L but not as easy-going as C. The three of them have had so much fun together before and after their classes giggling over nothing in particular and being naughty about everything in general.

But we’ve changed the timings for our classes. So we won’t be seeing them anymore. When she heard that, she said: “I don’t want that. I don’t want that, Mummy.”

We’re going to miss them.