Since becoming a parent, I have discovered two very important lessons:

1. What goes around comes around.

2. Never say “never”.

It was the hubby that learned the first lesson the hard way.  Before Gavin was born, he used to criticise children who screamed in restaurants.  He even made himself a promise that no child of his would scream in a restaurant.

Now, he is the abashed father of a little screamer.

As for the second lesson…  I feel I know it all too well.  I was never going to let my child watch TV before the age of two.  I was never going to give my child sweets and treats before the age of two.  I was never going to bribe my child into good behaviour.  Ah… the list could fill a whole page, but I think you get the picture.

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…or rather, it’s “nen nen” (which literally means “milk” in Chinese).

Gavin’s first words were “ai yah” and “yeah yeah” (taught to him by his Dad).  You would have thought it might be Mama, or Mummy, or even Dada, or Daddy.

When he finally learned to say Mummy, he used to address me as such ONLY when he wanted to nurse.  So he would say, “Mummy milk,” or “Mummy nen nen”.

He must have figured we were too familiar for formalities because he decided to dispense with addressing me as “Mummy”.  Now, it’s, “Nen nen nen nen nen nen,” until I give him what he wants.

It might have been fine if that was what he said only when he wanted to nurse, except that he always says, “Nen nen,” when he wants me.  Even when he doesn’t want to nurse, he’ll say, “Nen nen.”

So it would appear that my name is no longer “Mummy”, but “nen nen”.  I used to think he would call for “nen nen” when he wanted me because he knew that he could always get Mummy if he asked for “milk”, but now I occasionally catch him saying, “Nen nen,” crawling into my lap and then crawling out of it again even before I can get my shirt up.

Is this one of those sociological side effects of nursing or is my child unique unto himself?  Are there any breastfeeding mothers out there also known as “milk” to their toddler? 

Perhaps I should just put it down to one of those dreadful terms of endearment that one gets stuck with, like “chubby-wubby”.

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When your baby or toddler gets hurt, especially with your first child, there’s often a lot of finger pointing regarding who is to blame.  Most often, it is the person who was supposed to be keeping an eye on the baby who is the one that cops the blame.  Heated accusations are often heard above the baby’s loud wails, “Why weren’t you watching the baby?”

And that is the point of my post.

Sometimes, when baby gets hurt, it isn’t due to the negligence of the “watcher”.  Sometimes baby gets hurt even though the “watcher” was watching.

Even if the watcher had been momentarily distracted, pointing fingers and making everyone feel crummy isn’t going to help baby.

What is important is to make sure that baby is okay and does not require medical attention.  After that has been ascertained, giving baby the due attention and comfort necessary to halt the tears is important for baby’s emotional well-being.  After all, if you got hurt, would you like it if everyone was too busy arguing about whose fault it was instead of paying any attention to you?  I didn’t think so.

Toddlers will be toddlers.  Bumps and scrapes are a natural part of their lives just as breathing is.  Bumps and scrapes are the results of the mistakes a toddler makes while on the journey toward mastery of certain tasks and actions.  They are an inevitable part of the process of learning.

For instance, today, Gavin learned how to feed himself liquids from a cup without my aid to help him control the angle of the cup.  Initially he over-tipped the cup and spilled water down his front.  In his subsequent attempts, he was able to self-feed without spilling.

Mistakes are a necessary part of learning.  Our job as parents is to make sure they aren’t dangerous mistakes and to be there to provide help and comfort in the wake of a mistake. 

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My SIL and I took Gavin to check out the new branch of Toys ‘R’ Us at KLCC and to do a bit of shopping yesterday.  We were taking the escalators up to Kinokuniya when Gavin spotted Starbucks in the distance.  He pointed to it and said, “Eh, eh.”

Gavin’s really into the whole coffee culture - or rather, I should say he’s into the hot chocolate culture.  For some time now, he’s been taking sips from my hot chocolate every time I get one from Starbucks.  In fact, while he occasionally declines my offer to share some ice cream with him, he has almost never rejected the hot chocolate.  Yep, he’s a kid who rejects ice cream.  My FIL once commented that never has he ever known a child who rejected ice cream before.  I would even go so far as to say that hot chocolate tops the list on Gavin’s food preferences. 

Fairly early on, Gavin started to recognise the Starbucks take away cups and would insist on having a sip when he saw it.  Yesterday was the first time he’s ever shown recognition of the Starbucks shop front.

Aside from Starbucks, Gavin has been demonstrating a marked preference for certain brands and items over others.  So evident is his preference that it has prompted me to create the Gavin’s Kid’s Choice Awards (yes, the logo should look somewhat familiar - it belongs to the Nikelodeon Kid’s Choice Awards).

And here is the first winner for Gavin’s Kid’s Choice Awards:

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While I’ve been priding myself in being able to get Gavin attached to a lovey, I have since experienced one of the biggest shortfalls of having a child that is attached to a lovey.  Although the hubby and I have taken pains to secure the possible loss of Gavin’s lovey by purchasing a second identical toy, sometimes even that isn’t enough.

If you’ve been following this blog or if you’re a TY fan yourself, chances are, you’ll be familiar with Daichi the Bear.  Since we bought the second Daichi, I’ve started keeping Daichi no. 1 in Gavin’s cot at home, while Daichi no. 2 stays in the red bag I’ve started carrying around to hold all of Gavin’s essentials (namely: diaper, wet wipes, tissues, fresh t-shirt, noodle-cutting scissors, water, snacks, a toy, and my camera).

Terrible as it may sound, I recently misplaced Daichi no. 2.

When Gavin started fussing in the car, hubby innocently exclaimed, “Gavin!  Where’s Daichi?” 

It was intended to distract Gavin while I rummaged through my red bag for Daichi.  The only problem was that Daichi wasn’t in the bag.

Gavin’s crying halted for a moment while he looked at me with tear-filled expectant eyes only to be let down further through the discovery that Daichi was not forthcoming.

Our new code word for Daichi is “D bear”.  So unless Daichi is present, we try not to mention him in front of Gavin - especially when it is very likely that Gavin wants his bear.

Below: Gavin sleeping with Daichi during our road trip to Tanjong Jara.

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They call it the “terrible twos” but really it should be called the “onerous ones” or perhaps the “obstinate ones”.  Is it because of this misnomer that a lot of parents relate their harrowing stories of defiant toddlers to having begun when their child turned two?  Because that is what I hear from a lot of parents when it comes to their children - “Oh, the day she hit two - that was when all hell broke lose!”

Naturally, I was alarmed when Gavin was already showing signs of the terrible twos shortly after his first birthday.  I mean, if this isn’t the terrible twos then I would really hate to see what Gavin’s terrible twos have in store for me. 

In case you’re wondering whether I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, let me relate to you a few typical scenes with Gavin and you tell me whether you agree or not:

• He loves water, he loves to swim and he loves playing with water in the bath, yet, when it’s bath time, he flat out refuses to get into the bath.  When it’s all over, he refuses to get out and insists he’s not done. 

All my little tactics to get him out of the bath calmly have worked with limited results (as in, they work a few times until he catches on to the trick and then he starts backing away from me because he’s figured out what happens next).  When we take him out, he doesn’t just protest, he screams like someone’s trying to kill him (as his Daddy would describe it).

• When it’s bedtime, he does everything possible to stall.  For instance, he’ll ask for a sip of water which ends up being like 10 sips. When all his little tricks fail, he’ll turn those pleading eyes for some hapless family member to rescue him from the evil clutches of Mummy who’s about to put a stop to all his fun. 

Upstairs in our room, he’ll make signs that he wants to poop but when I put him on the toilet, nothing will come out.  When I make to take him off the toilet, he’ll start making grunting noises again as if he’s trying to poop.  I suspect the toilet trick is just to get the lights back on, especially when you consider that he never wants to sit on the toilet during the day.

Then he’ll ask for music but the only music he wants to listen to is Baby Signing Time.  When I play the music, he starts to dance like a mad boy and he signs like he never signs during the day.  He is simply adorable to watch until you remember that it’s actually bed time and it is now an hour after the time you were originally planning to put him to bed.

Luckily for my sanity, I discovered that the terrible twos can actually begin any time after the first birthday and sometimes even before.  So there really is a reason why my toddler gives me a hard time and I’m not prematurely balding as I yank my hair out in frustration over nothing.

As much as I had originally planned not to give Gavin any negative labels, it would appear that some undesirable labels have already stuck.  For instance, the hubby calls him LS (read: little sh*t) when he wakes up at 5am in the morning and starts bouncing around on the bed.  Whenever Gavin disobeys or does anything undesirable, he’s LS.  As much as I hate to label him so, when you’re sleep deprived with a squealing toddler bouncing off the walls like he’s high on speed and giggling to himself as he causes you no end of pain, it’s kinda hard.

Ironically, when we were at Tanjong Jara for a recent family holiday, aside from adoring his cuteness, a number of people told us how well-behaved they thought Gavin was.  Whenever we received one of these comments, the hubby would be like, “Huh?  Oh wait a minute, that’s because you haven’t seen him at home.”

Even though our view on Gavin might have been tainted by our private experiences of his temper at home, I have to admit, Gavin is pretty well behaved in public company.  In fact, I would go so far as to say he makes a rather gracious host.  He clearly adores being the center of attention and sometimes he even goes looking for it, trying to catch the eye of the cashier while wearing his most winsome smile.  Just to seal the deal, he’ll blow a kiss before we leave the shop.

Last night, while we were having dinner at a restaurant, Gavin was smiling and talking babble to some of the waitresses while we ate.  He kept gesturing to the food on our table and signing the word “eat” almost as if to say, “Come, come, join us!  Eat, eat!”  Aside from that, he readily signs “please” when he wants something and “thank you” when we prompt him.  “Sorry” is a little harder to come by but he still signs it after a little bit of cajoling.  Now how can I not be proud of my son’s public relations and social skills?

I guess one of the good things about taking Gavin out and speaking to strangers about him is that it helps us regain some perspective on our toddler’s behaviour and manners.

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Gavin’s passion for cooking has been evident for some time. Yesterday, he took it to the next level when he stir-fried some veggies and onions.

Since Gavin demonstrates such a keen interest in cooking, perhaps we ought to help foster his budding aspirations to become a chef?  I did recommend to Daddy that perhaps it was time to get Gavin a masak masak set but my suggestion got vetoed.  Boys, according to Daddy, are supposed to learn how to destroy things, not cook.  Well, I think Gavin’s got plenty of experience in that department without us even trying (just take a look at the damage he’s done to his pop up books - which is precisely the reason why I now stick to board books and even those aren’t entirely Gavin proof as evidenced by the state of his preloved books). 

Ah well, you can’t say I didn’t try…

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This post has been moved here.  I’m trying to redefine the topics of my blogs and it seemed more relevant to the marriage blog.

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I don’t know whether to be proud, embarassed, or alarmed, but this is something that happened yesterday that had everyone in tears (from laughing).  Believe me, this isn’t anywhere near as funny written as it was when it happened.

A friend, (who declines to be named so let’s just call her X) was staying over with us recently.  Three of us (me, X and another friend) were kneeling on the bed looking at some pictures on her laptop.  Gavin was running around the room munching on a bun.

This is what happened as described by X…

I could hear him walking past behind me several times.  Then suddenly, I felt this cold finger on my back…

It was Gavin attempting to feed little bits of his bun down the back of her pants.  When we all looked at him, he was giggling to himself, rather amused by his little gag. 

Yes, this is my cheeky, soon to be 17 month old toddler and his idea of humour.  I swear I have no idea where he got the idea to pull such a stunt, but clearly, it looks like he’s turning out to be every bit the mischievous imp his father was as a boy.  And if he is half as bad as the stories I hear about his father as a child, then all I can say is, “God help me.”

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The king of fruits, the Durian has often been known as the fruit that “tastes like heaven and smells like hell”.  A rich source of vitamin B and C, the durian also contains fiber.  It is also believed to be a good food source for pregnant women, although I’m not too sure why.  At any rate, since I enjoyed eating this fruit, I didn’t really question the merits of eating it while pregnant.  Perhaps it was because I didn’t want the hubby to discover a reason why I shouldn’t eat the fruit since he can’t stand the smell of it.

They say that babies can develop a taste preference even while in the womb because they can taste flavours from the foods their mothers eat.  Since I consumed considerable quantities of durian during my pregnancy, I had a strong suspicion that Gavin might like durians.

Recently, my FIL bought some durians home and we tested my hypothesis.  It would appear in this instance that Gavin has again demonstrated his genetic similarities to Daddy because he rejected the durian after the first taste (much to Daddy’s relief since it now means that Mummy is the only one who likes durians so he won’t have to tolerate it in our house once we move into our new place).

Well, my MIL hasn’t given up her quest to educate Gavin in the art of durian consumption so I guess you can watch this space…

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