In Chains...

...for Christ.


J made this in church today. Each link bears one word, that together say

"Stand firm in the faith - 1 Corinthians 16:13"

And so we have our next memory verse.

The Mad Hatter Visits

Poor things, they have to put up with their parents putting strange things on their heads.

Postscript: I showed this picture to E. She did not approve! She pointed at the ears on her head, shook her head and said, "Noooo...."

Role Of A Kor-kor

E has the most annoying habit of flinging to the floor anything that she doesn't want, and this can range from pieces of tissue paper, to cutlery, to bowls of food.

We've been working on getting her to stop this, so K will smack her hand when she does it.

This afternoon, in the wake of her getting punished with a smack (with the crying and screaming to prove it), J decided that he had had enough: "Dad, stop it! Dad, you're hurting Mei-mei's feelings!"

Bless his little heart.

First Memory Verse

This rose is blooming fiercely in our backyard.

Yesterday evening we watched a two-and-a-half year old boy at church recite from memory 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. Listening to him actually made me tear up. More importantly, it has convinced me that J can be taught memory verses from Scripture too, when I had previously just assumed that he was too young. So we are now working on James 1:17 -

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father...

He's got down the phrases so far, now to just put it all together! When I try to help him, he tells me to stop, because "I want to say it".

At The La Habra Children's Museum

A Brave Girl

Today, I brought E for a couple of injections, to bring her up-to-date as we try to register her for preschool. She did incredibly well!! So much better than I expected. Our earlier experiences with this had taught us that she has a very low pain threshold, and that she'd struggle. So I prepared myself this time, holding her tightly. But she didn't flinch at all, just sat there quietly. Maybe it was the promised reward of two stickers (for two injections) that did the trick! I was very proud of her today.

J, on the other hand, was very upset that he did not get to see, as he put it, "the doctor's stuff". And he was even more upset that he missed out on the stickers. He kept asking E for one sticker, but she quietly and adamantly shook her head each time. She finally had something that he didn't! Oh, but she did eventually relent - it took a handful of chocolate cookies, but she willingly handed one over in the end.

How We Know We Have Reached The Terrible Twos

Let me count the ways.

1. Demonstration of the Classic Temper Tantrum when things do not go her way. For example, stamping feet (when standing), kicking feet (when seated), bawling at the top of her lungs (with eyes closed).

2. Loud exclamations of "Me! Me!" to indicate whatever she thinks belongs to her, regardless of whether they do in reality or not.

3. Petulance. Kor-kor will lean over to give her an unsolicited kiss, and in response, she'll use her hand to thump whichever part of him is closest to her, whether it's his head or body or limb.

A Ker-thump And A Sentence

I was in bed a few nights ago, reading a little just before going to sleep. Then I heard it. A loud ker-thump. (The floors in our little wooden house are a very good conductor of sound.)

I tip-toed to the kids' room to investigate this mysterious sound. I opened the door just a little to peek in at E's bed. I couldn't spot her in the bed at first and initially put it down to not being able to see so well in the dark. But when I pushed the door open a little wider, I saw her. Sleeping. Face-down. On the floor!

***

E said her first full sentence today.

Dada. Buy. Me. Cheet. (Translation: Sweet.)

Walking on water

Slightly over a week ago, on a rare, rainless winter morning in Vancouver, we found ourselves on a suspension bridge fifty metres above a rushing river bounded on both sides by sheer, rocky sides. On our right, a small but spritely waterfall gushed over the edge of its cliff into Lynn Canyon. The rapids below us roiled with the rainwater collected throughout the Lynn River’s pristine catchment, but we could see the rocky riverbed strewn with boulders, sand banks and the odd plant. Signs near the Lynn Canyon Ecology Centre had warned of the dangers of the river and its canyon. Walking through the forest to the bridge, the canyon’s edge, obscured by the dense trees, came up suddenly and surprisingly. Various people had died in the waters of the river; in one grisly case, the body of an unfortunate hiker spent five days trapped under the hydraulic pull of a waterfall along the river before it could be recovered. Just before the suspension bridge, we had also come across a small memorial to a young woman whom the river had swept away suddenly. She had apparently been sunbathing on a large boulder on the canyon floor.

Such macabre reminders did not detract from our enjoyment of Lynn Canyon and its suspension bridge. Joshua was absolutely enthralled with the idea of crossing the suspension bridge, and went across it four times fearlessly and enthusiastically. A group of Korean tourists had come just before us, in their dark suits, jackets, trousers and leather shoes, but the canyon still felt like it belonged us. Above the canyon, surrounded by the sound of rushing water that silenced every other man-made sound, we felt excited and enervated, strangely anticipating something mysterious and revelatory beyond the bridge, or around the next corner. The clear, cleansed air, scrubbed and fresh and almost glistening in its purity, felt like it could carry our voices and our thoughts for miles above the roar of the water.

We spent the rest of that Friday at Granville Island. Despite its status as one of Vancouver’s major tourist attractions, Granville Island has somehow avoided the trap of kitsch and feels authentic and unforced. It’s not really an island, but a small piece of land sticking into Vancouver’s False Creek that, up till the 1970s, had been filled with derelict sawmills, machine shops and other corrugated-tin factories that disposed of their toxic wastes right into the waters off their doorstep. Since the 1970s, Granville Island has experienced a remarkable transformation, one that similar sites in other cities have rarely repeated. Many of the original structures and buildings now house galleries, art and cooking schools, nonprofits, theatres, housing, parks, marinas, a wonderful children’s market (where we happily spent many hours and hard currency) and of course, the Granville Island Public Market.

If the availability of great seafood, fruits and tasty baked goods were the sole criterion for judging the quality of a city, Vancouver would trump just about any other city in the world. And the Granville Island Public Market would be the place to find it all, from cheesebreads to organic M&M cookies (we bought one for Joshua, only to have a sugar-deprived seagull grab some of it right out of his hands), to honeyed planks of smoked salmon, and piles of berries, mushrooms and doughnuts light as air that we gobbled up in a flash.

The previous night, we had watched Nigella Lawson prepare fried calamari for her supper, which had caused Fiona and I to crave, with almost indecent desperation, for something similar for our lunch at Granville Island. In good Singaporean fashion, Joshua, Emma and I waited for a table in the crowded eating area of the market, while Fiona joined the line for fish and chips, and, of course, calamari. While walking through the market, I had earlier seen a shop selling stuffed cabbage and greasy latkes with apple sauce, which I decided that I had to have too.

I wolfed down my lunch, and took Emma (who was happy with ketchup for her lunch) for a walk after that. We walked outside the Public Market, along False Creek. Emma initially was quite happy to walk; she toddled a few steps after me, sometimes making faces through the glass wall to the hungry diners inside and waving to them. I think a group of Japanese tourists even took a photograph of her. But then she grew nervous and wanted me to carry her. She had stopped looking at the people and at me, and had instead looked down at her feet. We were walking on the boardwalk outside the Public Market, directly over the waters of False Creek, with the Granville Street Bridge soaring right above us. She had stumbled on the wooden planks of the boardwalk and had seen, through the planks, the water beneath, and grew afraid of walking by herself. I had to scoop her up, and after that, she refused to walk on her own on the boardwalk.

*

Some time before our trip to Vancouver, Joshua started asking us questions about death and mortality. “Mo-o-o-o-m,” he would ask plaintively at night, after we had put him into bed, “are you going to die?”

- “Ermm, no, not for a very, very long time. . . But you don’t need to be scared, Joshua.”
- (With increasing panic) “I don’t want you to die, mom . . . Am I going to die?”

At this point, he usually starts to whimper, and we try to make comforting noises to get his mind off the topic, at least for the moment. We’ve even tried explaining that even if we were to die, our souls would live on – but even I, at 33, have problems grasping the immortality of the soul (or immortality, for that matter). So the discussions along those lines haven’t quite resonated with him too.

I don’t often think of death and mortality very much. I exercise regularly (and even enjoy it), eat good things like granola, fruits, vegetables, wild salmon, brown rice and multi-vitamins, don’t smoke, drink lots of water and tea rich in anti-oxidants, and I laugh quite often. (Fiona and I recently watched “Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason” and laughed ourselves silly in the scene in which she skies herself right into a Swiss pharmacy and tries, with gesticulating hilarity, to buy a pregnancy test. Yes – I watched a “Bridget Jones” movie.) At my last full physical, just about a year ago, I had a clean bill of health. According to RealAge.com, my body is 25 years old. So, mortality does not enter my consciousness much, although, perhaps at 33, it should.

So Joshua’s questions have reminded me of the reality of death. And I wish I could convey to him that we have nothing to fear. That day, on Granville Island, Emma started to fear when she saw the water beneath the planks, and did not want to walk on her own anymore. But earlier that day, we walked on a slender, narrow suspension bridge across a roaring river, with no fear. We trusted that the bridge would hold, that each piece of wood on that bridge was securely fastened, solid and sound, that nothing would give way under our blind and trusting feet. And in the absence of fear, we felt freedom and we tasted the slightest tang of eternity.

Sometimes, however, our eyes will turn away from the planks that hold us up and will instead grow fixated on the roiling waters underneath us. And when those times come, we will grow anxious, stricken, and allow the shadows in our hearts to grow. And we will not want to keep walking anymore, but we may stand, paralyzed, frozen, unable to see the road ahead, the way out.

But, like Emma on that beautiful, cold Friday in Vancouver, I know that I have a Father to turn to, who will carry me on His shoulders, even when my sight fails. And in that way, I can keep on walking.

What Are The Odds

Upon arriving at Ontario airport, we found that we were less one carseat. Again. And again, E's carseat is the one that has gone missing. It is inexplicable. We await further news.


This was a good moment, when both kids were actually watching something on the portable DVD player. E has a hard time flying though. She just cannot understand why she has to be so confined, so she makes sure we are all aware of her unhappiness. The look on her face here pretty much captures it all.

J, on the other hand, is a happy camper, so long as he has something to watch.

Victoria

Victoria is a very pretty town, but it felt very quiet. Maybe it was because we were coming from big bustling cities like Vancouver and Seattle.

This was the highlight for J - we visited Miniature World, and naturally there were trains. "Next time, I want a toy like that," he proclaims as we were leaving.

Science World

The fact that we spent a WHOLE day at Science World (with a short break out for lunch) is testament to how much we loved the place.

The kids were captivated, and this was before we even stepped inside.


It was a wet day, the day we were at Science World, so we were very glad to be indoors, where it was warm and dry.


This was lunch! The best fishballs we've had outside of Singapore. Needless to say, J was ecstatic.

The Daredevil Among Us

So here we are, catching up on our posts.

This is how we spent one of our days in Vancouver: crossing the Lynn Valley Suspension Bridge in the morning, then exploring Granville Island in the afternoon. A day of great fun, especially for J. He discovered how much fun crossing a swaying bridge can be. Several crossings were made because he enjoyed them so.


There is a Children's Market at Granville Island that is loads of fun. And the toy shops there have great toys too! Birthday presents have been bought...


You can see, we were blessed with a rainless day! Which was much better than our first day in Vancouver when it dripped and dripped and dripped. J was very concerned about the rain, and would give us no peace about it until we got him his own "shark" umbrella.

Here we are doing a quick march down Robson Street in Vancouver. Our destination...

Roast Pork

Have I mentioned how well we've been eating in Vancouver already? We're trying to make up for the lack of over the past 8 months.

We've had roast pork twice already.

The first time, J decided he wanted to eat the crispy skin from the roast pork on my plate. He liked it. Very much. Thus began his slow poaching of it all.

When there were two pieces left, he generously told me that I could have it all. Then two minutes later, he asks if he can have one of the two. I could have the other one, he points out. Then two more minutes later, he forgets and almost asks to have the last one too, but swiftly corrects himself to ask, "Can I share the last piece with you, Mom?"

How to deny him when he so obviously loves it? He had it all.

PS. Photos will come when we finally get back home to Claremont.

No Smoking Allowed

On the ferry to Victoria this afternoon, J noticed a 'No Smoking' sign. He knows what it means, as I've explained it before. (He went through a little phase of wanting to be told what signs meant; particularly when he was in preschool in Singapore, he'd look at all the signs on the MRT stations and trains on the way home from school.)

He then pointedly K, "No smoking, Dad." It took a couple of seconds for us to realise that he was talking about the steam rising up from K's cup of coffee.

LOL!

The Cutest Sound

E has learnt to say okay, except that she says "oh-tay". It is super cute when she says it, and then toddles off to do whatever she just agreed to do.

This is rivalled only by her "sorry" which comes out as "Orr-Wee". I can't help laughing everytime I hear her say it.

On a separate note, E has inherited J's love for Go, Diego, Go (while J has moved on the other things; he now complains about how boring Diego is). It's the only show that she ever asks to watch at home. This afternoon, while she was napping in the car, she actually called out Diego's name in her sleep! (She says, "Eh-Go") K says it's her first crush.

Chicken Rice

Within three hours of learning that there was a Prima Taste Restaurant in Vancouver (thanks, Rosie!), we were at the restaurant buying dinner.

We were just out for a walk, but when the kids fell asleep in the stroller, we decided to walk all the way down to Prima Taste Restaurant, about 12 blocks away.

Dinner consisted of chicken rice, laksa and fried Hokkien prawn mee. The kids loved the chicken rice! True Singaporeans.

The Lost Carseat

We flew up to Seattle yesterday, only to find upon arrival that E's carseat didn't make the flight with us. Oh well, as K points out, if we had to lose any piece of luggage, at least it was the carseat (which the airline replaced with a carseat of their own, on loan until ours caught up with us), and not a piece of luggage. (Postscript - E's carseat finally caught up with us this morning.)

[Sidenote: J has been ill, running a fever off and on from Saturday evening through Monday evening. This was cause of some worry for me, especially since we were flying off Tuesday morning. So we were praying. I am very happy that J has been fine since Tuesday. God is good. And as I type this, he is busy watching Cars and playing with E at the same time. It is wonderful to see him back to his energetic self.]

Seattle is as lovely as I remember it to be, even with the rain and cold weather. I think it is the presence of water all around - rivers and the ocean - that makes the difference for me. An island girl, I am.

We walked to Pike Place Market this morning for breakfast, and J could recognise it from our last trip to Seattle in August! He remembered in particular a toy shop we had found the last time around, and that was, naturally, a must-visit.

Mid-morning, we made the drive from Seattle to Vancouver. Lovely drive - lots of pine trees, so there was greenery, even in winter. We had to go through customs, which was very reminiscent of driving through the border at J.B., except it is off-season now so there weren't that many cars, and the weather outside was around 3 degrees Celsius.

Anyway, we are now in Vancouver, having partaken of a late dim sum lunch and a fantastic Japanese dinner. Our hotel is located wonderfully: we are within walking distance to many restaurants, most of which look really good. One in particular - Banana Leaf - will definitely be visited within the next couple of days.

On Mortality

I'm not even sure how this started.

But every once in a while now, J will turn to me, in all seriousness, and ask, "Mom, are you going to die?"

Now, I have always thought that I should be honest with my children. I want them to always trust me, and so I try not to say or do anything that could betray that trust.

But this question...

The first time he asked this, I told him that although I'd die one day, it wouldn't be for a long time (God willing), and even then, we'd still see each other in heaven. Not good enough for him! Tears! I think it's too big for him to understand.

Last night, he asked THE QUESTION again. And once again, he started tearing up! He worried about if I was going to die, and if he was going to have new mommy... ("But I don't want new mommy... Mom, are you going to die??") I told him that he shouldn't worry about it, and that he would always be taken care of. It wasn't the answer he wanted to hear: it wasn't enough.

How to answer him? On the one hand, I certainly don't want to lie to him. On the other hand, he is so sensitive that telling him the truth upsets him.

I am stumped. And reminded of how much we need God's wisdom!

A Potential Vegetarian

I just remembered something that happened when we were at the Natural History Museum. One of the exhibits we saw was a demonstration of how a turtle laid her eggs on the beach. Both J and E were quite interested in it.

The final panel showed the baby turtles after they had hatched, making their way down to the sea. For the sake of realism, there were a couple of seagulls in the air, with a baby turtle in their mouth. Knowing the kind of personality J has, I was hoping that he wouldn't notice it!

No such luck. J asked why the birds had the baby turtles in their mouths. I had to explain that some of the turtles would get eaten by the birds, while trying to stress that the other baby turtles would make it into the ocean.

Not good enough for him. He got really upset! And was moping for a good period of time after that.

I have a potential vegetarian on my hands.

Who Needs An Alarm Clock

With no school get up for, we've been letting the kids act as our alarm clocks, only waking when they come over to our room in the morning. This usually happens between 7 and 8 in the morning, although there have been some aberrations - one morning, E tumbled in at 5.50am.

Anyway, E always acts as if only she has the right to lie next to me. If J gets in next to me first, she'll fuss, whine and wriggle until she gets where she wants to be. Once she's there, she pulls my arm and wraps it around her waist, so that she's nicely cuddled.

Lately, she's taken to turning around to face me; she'll look at me intently until she's sure that she's got my eye, then she'll ever so slowly break into a sweet smile.

How to find a better way to wake up, I ask you?

The Drama of J

After downing his night-time snack of milk, J says, in an undertone, "I need to burp."
And then issues forth a massive, man-sized, gigantic burp.

Then at bedtime, E starts putting the toys away, and K instructs J to help her.
J turns around, puts his hand to his forehead, grimaces and says, "But my head is giddy."

Cookie Cake

We've been talking about birthdays with the two kids, seeing as how they have a birthday each in the next two months.

When we ask E what she wants for her birthday, she always says, "Cake". Always.

So today we asked her what kind of cake she wants. Her reply, "Cookie cake".

Cookie = Chocolate, to her.

Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County

On a cold and wet day yesterday, we visited the Natural History Museum.

Story time at the Discovery Center.

J was listening to a story about bears. When asked to snore like the bear, he snorted. Most loudly.

J found a snake puppet that he liked very much. All ready to put on a show, he pushed me to a chair with a "Take a seat, Mom".

Ping-Pong

This is how you play ping-pong when you're short.

Doing The Tourist Thing In LA

K and J are both still on their winter break, so we've been doing the tourist-y thing in LA over the last few days.

Today we visited the LA Zoo for the first time. It's not as big as the San Diego zoo, nor as varied, but still enough to make J and E very happy. J woke up early this morning, all ready to leave for the zoo, even while the rest of us were still in bed.

Here he's checking out a lion through a telescope.
You can tell from the photo that today was an unseasonably warm day! (We are bracing for a cold few days ahead though - showers are forecasted.)

Earlier this week we left the car at home and took the train down to LA, primarily for the sake of taking the train. Since we didn't have our car with us all day, we broke in our new stroller. It is way easier to manage than our current double stroller. It folds up smaller and is so much easier to push. Turning the stroller is now effortless. Another plus: E doesn't get a chance to kick J, which she does when they're in the current stroller, much to J's annoyance.

Looking out of the train

This is probably the closest we'll ever get to the Museum of Contemporary Art.