Archives for category: chickadee

The son came up to me, with a number punched into the calculator he was holding.

It read ‘1000’.

He asked me to read it.

I did.

Then he asked me to repeat it again.

I did.

Then he asked if he can have that. In REAL MONEY he added.

I think I choked on my drink.

At this point, he decides to offer me a drawing in exchange for real $1k.

I declined. And bargained it to $1.

And this was what I got.

He named it Family.


I’m glad I paid for it. And the husband is ecstatic that the son closed his first business deal.

The budding entrepreneur even threw in a free gift.

Free gift


As with hoards of other people breathing on this planet, Christmas is one of my favourite holidays. Religious significance aside, it’s a time for relaxation and reflection.

Except when it comes to Christmas presents.

With only a month left, I’ve only just drawn up our Christmas gifts list and am beginning to think that shopping online on Black Friday will be a real bad idea since there’s a high possibility that it might make it here AFTER Christmas.

But every year, I’m hit with the same problem.

I get sent feeds after feeds of seemingly easy crafts for Christmas giving and I’m itching to do each and every one of them. On days when I’m rather sane, I realise it’s a ridiculous idea and yet, throughout the whole day, the subconscious mind is thinking if I should make a hobo or tote bag. Or an appliqué romper. Or backpacks for the kiddos. Or body scrubs. And the list goes on and on.

And I really do not know how people take to handmade gifts. Will they think that I’m trying to scrimp on their presents??

While I try and sort this out, I thought I’ll share what we did for the son’s teachers. I knew that I had to do this when I first saw the tutorial and if I have my way, all the teachers in his lifetime will get one of these bags.

Thank you bags for the son's teachers

Bags II

I’m biased but aren’t the pictures so cute?

After waiting for 3 months, it was finally D-Day.

Dentist Day.

I wasn’t really sure how he would take to it but thankfully, he was a brave little man.

I chose to head to the School Dental Service instead a private pediatric dentist primarily because of cost but as we headed there, I seriously wondered if I had made a wrong choice. All the childhood memories of the dentist visits started resurfacing and when I stepped through the door, I thought he was going to be forever traumatised by this first visit. It was just like the old-school polyclinics all over again.

And when his number was called, we stepped through another door which contained many open-air cubicles, each helmed by a dentist. And all the different sounds. I think I would have been scared stiff and overwhelmed if I were him.

He probably was but gamely moved on to the designated cubicle.

The good news. The assigned dentist was great. She got him up the chair with no fuss and save for that one time where he winced because of the minature cotton rolls (what is the name for that?) that they stuffed into the mouth, everything went well.

The bad news. We found 5 cavities.

We managed to fill the biggest one which the dentist said was very good considering this was his first visit (secretly, I did wonder if it was because he was the last patient).

First dental visit

I probably should start making appointment for the subsequent visit soon before the cavities multiply.

He suddenly stopped short in his tracks.

Pointed to a car and asked, “Are the rims nicer than daddy’s?”. Next second, he answered himself in affirmative.

Squatted beside the car and shouted for his daddy across the carpark to admire this set of rims that’s nicer than his.

Nicer rims

In the day, I must protect the daughter from a boisterous son. He’ll squeeze her cheeks together really hard or pull her roughly to him to be enveloped in a BEAR hug.

At night, I have to protect the son from the over-zealous daughter.

They sleep on the same bed though separately by a pillow to make sure none get mistaken as a bolster in the middle of the night (which has happened before). He usually sleeps before her so when she spies him on the other side, her eyes lit up and she propels her way there to gives him a few firm slaps in a bid to wake him up. Since that usually fails, she’ll take to grabbing his hair or face. And the brother will gladly let her do that.

Perhaps I should consider a career change.

The invite said Balloons & Bubbles and it certainly lived up to it.

We had a fantastic time at the party and I’m truly amazed at how it went (in fact, I think we stayed a tad too long.)  I’ve never entertained the idea of having a party at home not simply because our place was small cosy, but also the energy and brain-cells to conceptualise and pull it off? Not easy.

The son had a blast painting with the balloons (in keeping with the theme). Balloon painting
Finger painting

Me think he could also be a little deprived since he painted almost everyday when we had our own place, as compared to now.

And I just have to add this photo because it’s adorable how she just stood there.
Happy 2 year old, Bubbles!

Blessed birthday Bubbles!

We have been reading this to the son.

I’m not going to speculate where he picked up this behaviour from, or is this a natural part of growing up, but he has been showing signs of this. I actually do not have much experience with the Berenstain Bears but had bought this to give it a go.

Anyway, the point of this post is not about the book but what ensued after.

The husband: Brother Bear and Sister Bear both have their favourites things. Who’s your favourite person? Mrs Chia (his teacher in school) or mummy?

The son: God.

Wow. And at the end of the day, that’s the most important thing that I want him to live his life by. And of course by translating that into actions because afterall, “faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead” (James 2:17).

I finally got off my butt and brought the kids to the Children’s Season at the Singapore Art Museum after school. I didn’t want to miss it again, like what happened last year.

SAM at 8Q

We went to SAM at 8Q before realising that this year’s was at the main building.

Mummy dearest The room full of velcro clothes/faces for the children to stick onto various figurines.

Daddy & him He dressed his daddy and himself. By the way, Daddy is a superhero even though he seemed to be flashing bits of himself.

Stick on cake

It was rather enjoyable although I realised that squatting at the ‘Go’ installation was really not a good idea. I’ve been suffering from muscle and knee aches since.

Unfortunately but naturally, all the concepts and ideas behind all these installations were totally lost on the son. All he was interested in was the modular toy train track playroom.
Trains galore

And the other installations:
White elephant

Rocking flowers

Ice cream room

On a sidenote, I realised I really like the Circle Line. It’s always seems more tranquail than the other lines. 

Family portrait

Of my son’s countless drawings, this is one of my favourite.

Can you tell who’s who?

The son loves to draw/scribble. Sometimes he calls it his work while scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, which reminds me of simplistic Egyptian hieroglyphs. Or maybe just childish scribblings.


And it’s interesting to see how his drawings have evolved by themselves.

I have been thinking of sending him to some art class since that’s something he’ll obviously enjoy but just haven’t really found any (Ok, I haven’t really been actively looking and only sent him for ONE trial class). I’m not hot about classes that dictates how something should be drawn or colored ‘correctly’. I would like him to have a free hand in his work and to have a broad sense of the different mediums.

Or maybe I’m just thinking too much and too far.

Today was the final day of the Peranakan Museum’s Drop-in Wednesday  that was in conjunction with the Children’s Season and it had been on my calendar for the past few Wednesdays and I’m glad that I finally made it in time.

I can’t believe that I’ve never made time to visit it when I was working in the vicinity though.

So lovely

To sound really bimbotic, everything in there looks so pweety. Ok, except the altars and funeral sections. The voice recording of the wailing at the funeral section made the son very concerned. And I had to try to explain what is “die”.


I had actually brought the son there for the story-telling sessions but it was way too long and draggy for him although I do applaud them for taking the effort to try and engage the audience. He was more interested in running about than anything else and everytime he leaned dangerously close over the railings, I think I can feel the gaze of the security guard on me.

Pop-up card

At least he got to make a pop-up card as evidence that he was there.