Arachnophobia

I was only blogging about this a couple of weeks back. We bought Jesse a couple of Spiderman suits and he refused to put it on. Well, now he refuses to take it off. And he wants to wear it everywhere. To sleep, to school, to the mall. Ugh.

He's so into the whole thing that I thought it might be fun to teach him the Spiderman theme song. He loves it so much that we've downloaded YouTube videos of the song. There's the original from the 60s. And then there's that version from Michael Buble. And those from Aerosmith and the Ramones. He likes 'em all.

Here's a video.



I would have uploaded a few more videos but I'm a lazy ass. Live with it. :)

I'm Back, Sort Of

It's been awhile since I blogged, hasn't it?

A couple of months back, my beloved beautiful black Apple MacBook crashed on me. Apparently the damn Seagate hard drive inside got jammed beyond all recognition. (Yes, I wanted to use a stronger word than "jammed" but this is a family blog. Heh!)

The computer was under warranty, but I was more concerned about the stuff inside.

"Didn't you back up?" people asked.

"It's a Mac, dammit," I said, insulted at the notion that us Mac-boys have to back up anything. "It's the best dammed computer in the world," I snapped, "nobody backs up a Mac."

Anyway, I sent the disc to a Data Recovery center in Singapore and they billed me RM600 just to diagnose. I paid. They opened it up, did some magic... and that did zip for the disk.

Thankfully I'm not as pig-headed as I allow myself to sound sometime. I did backup my stuff over the new year. But that was over 6 months ago. So I lost some work. And I lost photos of Jesse growing up.

Damn Steve Jobs owes me 6 months of my son's life. And the will to go on blogging. *sniff*

Spidermania

Jesse is a big fan of Spiderman. Ever since I pointed the billboards out to Jesse, the boy had been smitten with the webslinger. And since Daddy too is a fan, the boy has a growing collection of Spidey merchandise.

To date, Jesse's got a Spidey bag, a Spidey tumbler, pencil sharpener, stationery, stickers, a soft toy, Spidey undies, slippers, the works! And he's really into it too. Reading the books, watching the movie. He can even sing the first verse of the Spiderman song.

"Honey, I think it's time we got the boy his very own Spidey suit," I suggest. And a couple of weeks back, we found our way to Petaling Street where we got him the suits - the regular red and blue one, and the hot and spicy black one. And we even picked up a couple of masks for him.

The boy loves his suits but for some strange reason, he never wants to put them on.

"No, no," he'd protest. "Too big," he'd add, along with a host of other feeble excuses just not to wear it. He's also against the idea of me putting on his Spiderman masks. He'd bow his head so as not to look me in the face and he'd go, "Daddy, take out!"

*sigh* Weird kid. Still trying to figure him out.

A Woman Will Give You Shit

At least that what my old man used today. And he should know. Heh. But it's a little tragic when my 3-year-old little boy should find that out.

"Do you know what happened to Jesse yesterday?" Mae voice rattled excitedly over the phone this morning. She was, of course, dying to tell me.

"Cutie-Pie shat all over him," Mae said, "literally."

It took me awhile to respond. I mean, how exactly does one kid shit on another? And right in the middle of their kindergarten class too. Some pretty unsavoury images found its way to the dark recesses of my mind. Did his little co-ed pin him down? Or was he a willing party? Did he roll around in it laughing his head off?

"Is she cute?" the typical male in me enquired.

"Quite," Mae sniggered.

"Then I guess it was worth it."

No clever retort from Mae. She knows I'd take a whole load from her too. :)

UPDATE: In case anybody's wondering, this is not one of those cryptic posts. Poor little Cutie-Pie came to school with a bout of diaorrhea. She had a little accident and there was shit all over the place and for some reason, some of it ended up on Jesse's uniform and nobody can say for certain how that happened. I shall have to interrogate the boy tonight.

A Little Less Conversation

Even before he was born, I had longed to someday have meaningful conversations with my son. Unfortunately, Jesse is a boy of few words. For the life of me, I can't seem to understand why.

Legend has it that his father (*ahem) could talk long before he could walk. My mom and my aunties swear that between my cousin Dean and I, we were two kids rolled into one. At about one plus he'd be pushing me around in the stroller, while I barked out orders. He walked the walk, while I talked the talk. Must have been quite a sight.

His mother... hmph... just try and shut her up. Heh.

Jesse, however, isn't much for conversation. It isn't that he can't speak or can't communicate his wants and needs, it's just that he doesn't ever really feel like having a dialogue with anybody.

"What did you do at school today, Jesse? Did you learn anything new? Did you sing songs? Did you..."

"Jesse wanna oi-oi," he'd butt in, indicating his desire to go to bed, as if our questions were putting him to sleep. Meanwhile his classmates at the kindie are giving their parents a 200-word oral report or their day at school.

Little Gabriel tells his daddy Alex exactly what happens at school each day. Little Scott in the next class can tell his mommy that Jesse is his schoolmate when we bumped into them at Ikea. Jesse on the other hand, tells us diddley squat.

Either he's not interested in conversation, or he's up to no good at school. *sigh*

Till Death Do We Part

A couple of days ago, a neighbour in Block B of my apartment building jumped off the balcony of his fourth floor unit. Neighbours say he came home, got into a shouting match with his wife and decided he has had enough.

"Sometimes when you nag me, I just wanna slit my wrist and end it all," I told Mae once. Of course I was being an asshole at the time for saying that, but maybe a small part of me meant it.

I hate confrontations with the wife. And I think a lot of men share this sentiment. Having the wife nag you incessantly can really be a fate worse than death. This, I mean as a figure of speech, but unfortunately some men take it literally.

When we married, I imagined a life of bliss and eternal happiness - Mae whispering sweet nothings in my ear, smiling sweetly with every word that proceeds from her mouth. And then reality bites you in the ass.

It takes a lot to make a marriage work. When a husband and a wife get into a shouting match, here's an advice for the guys: shut up, or you'll just make things worse. As for the girls, hey, you too can shut up. Try it, it works.

Anyway, the couple were in their early 30s. I'm pretty sure whatever the wife might have said, she'll probably regret it all her life. As for the guy, if he had just turned around and gave the wife a big fat hug instead, perhaps things may have turned out very differently.

Much Needed Getaway

It was the school holidays and Mom was in town. Her brother and his wife suggests a trip up Gentings, and we decide it would be a good idea to tag along. Despite being just a one-day thing for Mae, Jesse, our new maid, Anie and I, it was a much needed getaway.

Mom's living all alone in Taiping these days since Grandma's passing. The trip was a great change of pace for her. It was too, for Mae who only started working again 2 months ago.

Clever me, in my usual absent-minded self, forgot to fill the gas tank before we drove up. Our last few kilometers up the hill were, as you can imagine, a pretty harrowing experience. And in case you were wondering, yes, the engine did die - but thankfully only some 300 meter away from the gas pump up in Gentings and at the stairs. My walk uphill got me gas and a good exercise.

(But don't think for a moment that the incident will teach me to keep my tank filled. I have had my car die on my on numerous occassions, and I never learnt my lesson then. :P )

At the outdoor park, we egged Anie to get on the Corkscrew. Anie is a sad little girl who hardly ever smiled (more on this in another post). So, up she went in the rollercoaster and down she came smiling ear to ear. It was the best thing for her.

As for Jesse, he had a whale of a time on the rides. However, being the school holidays and all, Genting Highlands was packed to the brim with schoolkids. Every fun ride was preceded by a half-hour queue. Imagine standing in a queue for 30 minutes with 13 kgs on your shoulder. It's no walk in the park, I assure you.

So yeah, it wasn't the best holiday getaway we ever had. Heck, not even close. But it was certainly much needed.

P/S - BTW, I'm behind on my blogging. This trip was a week ago. Today, we just came back from Taiping. Expect a flurry of entries in the next few days!