Happy Birthday, Sunshine
My son turned eleven yesterday. For the last week or so, he wouldn't let us forget it, not even for a while. Usually the reminders would come in the form of three days, seven hours and forty minutes more till my birthday.
He clenches his fists. I mean, since he was born, he'd clench his fists tightly until his nails dig into his palms. We'd be feeding him, he'd have both hands on his chest but the fists would be tightly clenched. I made it a personal mission to unclench his fists every opportunity I had. My wife told me not to worry so I guess that's OK, she usually knows about these things. To this day, when he's asleep, his fists would still be clenched, tough not as tight as when he was a baby.
The first few years in Miri, when I come home from work, I look forward to see him push the curtains at the glass door aside and see that look on his face when the person that he is looking forward to see is home. My wife told me that sometimes it would someone else passing by but he'd still flick the curtains aside thinking it was me and she'd see the disappointed look on his face.
He wasn't the hardest baby to look after but he wasn't the easiest one either. I could say he wasn't the hardest because my wife did a lion's share of the work!! He was allergic to ants - he'd have rashes sometimes and all we had to do was find the culprit. Usually it was an ant that he'd step on earlier. Once when he was three and my wife was away in the hospital, I woke up discovering he had rashes and swelling all over his body and true enough, hundreds of ants have made a beeline for his spilt milk on the mattress, and him. It scared me silly since I have heard of tracheas being swollen shut and it was a night of calamine and other lotions and no more sleeping but a night of watching that small chest go up and down, up and down, up and down, till daybreak. He woke up perky that morning simply because he knew he'd on his way to see his mother and his new baby sister.
His grandparents love him. They love the fact that he'd say "Hi Papa Tuk" or "Hi Mama Wan" each time he sees them even though he just saw them and said the same thing fifteen minutes ago. He'd hold his grandmother's hand while she walk down the stairs or across the bumpy ground.
He'd wage war on his sister one moment and be best buddies with her a few minutes later. I keep telling him to study hard. He hates that. But I'll keep on telling him that. The only thing I want him to do is make something out of his life and that I am not going to support him when he is forty!!! I have seen too much of that. Live within his means. Neither a lender nor a borrower be. If someone kicks you, kick him back. If someone punches you, punch him back but don't start a fight. Rob Peter to pay Paul.
Whoops, bad advice. But then, I have been known to make mistakes too.
He clenches his fists. I mean, since he was born, he'd clench his fists tightly until his nails dig into his palms. We'd be feeding him, he'd have both hands on his chest but the fists would be tightly clenched. I made it a personal mission to unclench his fists every opportunity I had. My wife told me not to worry so I guess that's OK, she usually knows about these things. To this day, when he's asleep, his fists would still be clenched, tough not as tight as when he was a baby.
The first few years in Miri, when I come home from work, I look forward to see him push the curtains at the glass door aside and see that look on his face when the person that he is looking forward to see is home. My wife told me that sometimes it would someone else passing by but he'd still flick the curtains aside thinking it was me and she'd see the disappointed look on his face.
He wasn't the hardest baby to look after but he wasn't the easiest one either. I could say he wasn't the hardest because my wife did a lion's share of the work!! He was allergic to ants - he'd have rashes sometimes and all we had to do was find the culprit. Usually it was an ant that he'd step on earlier. Once when he was three and my wife was away in the hospital, I woke up discovering he had rashes and swelling all over his body and true enough, hundreds of ants have made a beeline for his spilt milk on the mattress, and him. It scared me silly since I have heard of tracheas being swollen shut and it was a night of calamine and other lotions and no more sleeping but a night of watching that small chest go up and down, up and down, up and down, till daybreak. He woke up perky that morning simply because he knew he'd on his way to see his mother and his new baby sister.
His grandparents love him. They love the fact that he'd say "Hi Papa Tuk" or "Hi Mama Wan" each time he sees them even though he just saw them and said the same thing fifteen minutes ago. He'd hold his grandmother's hand while she walk down the stairs or across the bumpy ground.
He'd wage war on his sister one moment and be best buddies with her a few minutes later. I keep telling him to study hard. He hates that. But I'll keep on telling him that. The only thing I want him to do is make something out of his life and that I am not going to support him when he is forty!!! I have seen too much of that. Live within his means. Neither a lender nor a borrower be. If someone kicks you, kick him back. If someone punches you, punch him back but don't start a fight. Rob Peter to pay Paul.
Whoops, bad advice. But then, I have been known to make mistakes too.
posted by dudae_simboyo at 17:03
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