you’ll find her

  You wake You think You dream You seek You shuffle And toss You muddle And stop Where is she? Where could she be? Can’t see Can’t behold Find her in the smiles of her sisters Find her in the memory of her laugh Find her in your speech And the beautiful boy she completes … Continue reading you’ll find her

the yong tau fu seller and her Mona Lisa smile

Why can't I find the yong tau fu seller? Or the chicken seller, or the nice couple that sells the fish, for that matter? Am I supposed to turn left here or make a right? I had recently gone with my mum on a whirlwind educational experience/buying trip at the neighbourhood wet market. Like a tornado, my … Continue reading the yong tau fu seller and her Mona Lisa smile

taxing PSLE needs its own examination

The 2017 PSLEs (Primary School Leaving Examination) ended a couple of weeks ago. Thousands of tweens and their parents held their collective breaths and put their lives on hold for months before the main event. Finally, they are able to heave a healthy sigh of relief. In the days after, the skies opened and rain … Continue reading taxing PSLE needs its own examination

snippets of tots #59

Mom: Oh honey, look. You’re getting bigger! Pretty soon you are not going to fit into your Elsa shoes anymore. Butterball: Yes, mommy. Maybe we can give it to *Jenny when I can’t wear it anymore. Mom (feeling proud): Yes, honey. That’s such a good idea! Butterball: Mommy, daddy told me that when we are … Continue reading snippets of tots #59

snippets of tots #56

Butterball: Mom, I really don’t like the nasal spray. (Sniff sniff) Me: Aw, I know. We only have to do it for (pause for finger calculations) ... three more mornings, honey! That’s not so bad, is it? Butterball (scrunchy-faced): The only time I like the nasal spray is when it’s spraying behind my back. #goodreasoningskills … Continue reading snippets of tots #56

deep down, we are all ants in the sandpit

This morning while on the way to Butterball's school, we saw an army of ants converging on a baby millipede, still alive and trying to get away. Reminds me of the violent events in the world of late. Seems to me that we aren't any better or worse than the vermin we feel superior to.

am I home, truly?

I moved back home recently. What does home mean, really? In my four decades of life, I've lived many of my formative early teen and young adult years, as well as a hefty chunk of adult life away from the place I was born. I had Butterball in a whole other country. Up until now, … Continue reading am I home, truly?

conversations with a 3-year-old #337

Me (overwhelmed with love for Butterball who is flush with fever but a complete trooper): You are my sweet little baby, you know that? Butterball (gasps and laughs): I'm not a baby! Me: Silly me. I meant sweet little girl. Butterball (shaking her head at her silly Mommy): But I'm not little. Me: You know … Continue reading conversations with a 3-year-old #337