Stealth Kisses

Maddie doesn't do kisses.

For some reason, our little girl doesn't liked to be kissed. Her lips are no man's (or woman's) land, which can be tough on Daddy cos she's got the cutest little lips that are just begging to be kissed. Heh. But when you come within stinky-breath distance from her face, our baby girl will take all necessary evasive action.

I've tried shaving, so that my stubble won't bother her. Heck, I've gone as far as to brush my teeth and gargle with mouthwash (in the middle of the day, mind you) to no avail. I come close and she'll twist and turn her head. Sometimes she'll even shove at my face. One time I swear she was trying to break my nose and shove the bone up my brain to put me out of my misery.

And then she shakes her head vigorously to display her disapproval. This is coming from a 13-month-old kid. So what's a Daddy to do, but to get creative?

Maddie has no problems kissing inanimate objects. Bring her dolly up to her face, ask her to kiss it and my little girl will crane her neck out to peck the doll. So I do that, but at the very last moment, I pull dolly away and steal a kiss, like a ninja. Score 1 for Daddy. She has since wised up to my ways and that trick's not working anymore.

I also found short-lived success by covering my lips with my hand or a sheet of paper, coming really close and planting one on her kisser. That one's not gonna work anymore, too.

Then one day while I carried her, I put on the most pathetic face I could muster and asked, "Don't you love Daddy? Don't you want to kiss Daddy a little?" She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye, leant forward... and gave me a friendly pat on the back.

*sigh* Guess I'll just have to settle. Until you're ready, sweetheart.

Police State

Three years on and I'm turning out to be a shitty father.

Jesse is a good kid, by my standards. (Which isn't saying much, since I have always had plenty of tolerance for kids.) He doesn't demand for stuff, throw a tantrum in public, or behave like a little A-hole when he doesn't get his way. In fact, he's usually obedient and quite the charming kid. But that's all out the window when it comes to eating, and sometimes, school.

"If you don't eat your lunch," I'd threaten, "the police will come and catch you!"

Right about then, he'd usually look over his shoulder suspiciously, to make sure there are no cops about, afterwhich, he'd proceed to eat like a normal human being. It works for days when he doesn't want to go to school. He'd be crying and throwing a fit. Until his impending arrest.

"If you don't go to school," I'd tell him, "the police will come and catch you!"

And instantaneously, whiny-boy becomes shiny-boy.

When Jesse was still swimming about in Mae's womb, I told myself that I'd never use frighten my boy into submission. But three short years later, I'm breaking my word over and over. *sigh* Worst of all, it's so bloody effective I'll probably use it again and again. The way I see it, he'll probably grow up to hate me for it. Or he'll start slipping me fifty Ringgit notes to look the other way.

I'm sorry, son. Daddy loves you too much to yell at you. Not when all I want is for you to eat well and have a good education.

Princely Raiment

the artist formerly known as prince

Come Sunday, Jesse's kindie is putting up some sort of a year-end concert for parents and all. For the juniors, it's more of a fancy dress gig than a concert.

"The theme is Snow White & The Seven Dwarves," Mae tells me. Which pretty much means Jesse and his classmates will have to dress up like any of the characters in that show. *sigh* And I had all this hope of dressing up my boy as Darth Vader or something. But no, it was gonna be Snow White.

"My son must be the Prince," Mae asserted, every bit like the soccer mom that she is. "And you," she commanded, "You will make your son the best costume in the class." If it was a mother and son thing, Mae can easily pass of as the Evil Queen. Heh.

The tunic and cuffs are made of some stiff felt-like material finished off with some curtain trims. I used the same stuff for the fake boots and belt. Basically I wanted material that didn't fray at the edges, so I wouldn't have the terrible task of sewing seams (It's called cheating). The belt buckle is mine. The pants and shirt are Jesse's nightclothes. The cape is some cheap fake satin which tends to fray at the edges, but I cleverly used a lighter to melt the "seams". Everything is fastened with velcro, except the cape which is held by two ornamental buttons. And I stitched it all on this portable little sewing machine my MIL gave me.

Okay, so I'm not ready to quit my day job yet, but I think I did a pretty good job here. :)

Scarred

feelin' fine

Jesse came back from his little surgery bandaged, with the instruction to remove after 48 hours. I was a little apprehensive, but I took to the task.

"What is inside, Daddy?" Jesse enquired. I explained to him in a way that he would understand, "You broke your head and the doctor fixed it."

"Doctor fixed Jesse's head?"

"Uh-huh," I proceeded to describe the procedure, "Doctor used strings to fix Jesse's head." I then went on to prepare him for what I was about to do, and when he was adequately prepped, I did the deed.

It must have been a little painful as I saw him wince a couple of times, but he laid there quietly as gingerly peeled the plaster and gauze away from his wound. And then I gave him a mirror to see what all the fuss was about. And the most unexpected thing happened.

He sat there, stared at the horrifying scar on his head and it struck him, probably for the first time - the aftermath of his terrible accident. And he cried buckets of tears. It was such a heartbreaking sight.

"Daddy, my strings," he sobbed. I hadn't expected him to be so affected by it and I wasn't quite prepared to deal with this. So I decided to just wing it. "Doctor said you look like Harry Potter," I assured the boy. As I did, I hollered at Mae to bring a Harry Potter DVD.

"Look, darling," Mae consoled him, "Harry Potter's got a mark on his head too!" It didn't help.

Then, my clever wife picked up an eyeliner pencil and drew a lighting mark on her head. "Look at Mommy," she cooed. I saw his little lips curl into a smile and I decided to play along. "Look," I called, "Daddy's got one just like yours!"

And just like that, we were a happy family once again. Even if it meant that Mae and I had to wear the "mark" out for our dinner and jalan-jalan that night.

Dirty Tricks to Wake Your Kid

Kids, like most adults, are not really morning people. The difference is when adults wake up feeling like shit in the morning, we suck it all in, grin and bear with it cos we have to. Kids don't have to bear with anything.

Which is why some kids wake up in the morning all angry with the world. And the rest of the morning goes downhill for them. Their bath water will feel like crap to them. Breakfast will be unbearable. School will be torture. And poor Daddy and Mommy, who will have to deal with all of this, gets a bonus of bad mornings to top off their already bad morning.

Then comes Clever Daddy. (Drumrolls please, *ahem*)

Clever Daddy wakes at 7:00am. It's a shitty mornings like all mornings, but today there is a sweet smell of ingenuity in the air. Daddy does this thing - the bath, the brush, the shave and the shit. Then lo and behold, it is now 7:30am. Clever Daddy picks out a nice Barney DVD, pops it into the player in the bedroom and waits for the show to begin.

As the annoying strains of "I love you, you love me" fill the room, Unsuspecting Child is gently awoken by the sound of his freaky purple best friend. Clever Daddy then swoops down on Child and blows a raspberry on his tummy. Daddy and Child break out into laughter.

And there was joy throughout the land. Once again, the world was spared the melancholy of another crabby kid. Hurrah!