First Born

Mumie realises she shouldn't have waited till you are nearly 4 years old before she begins to keep an account of your growing up years. But then, Blog had only come into existence shortly after you were born. And Mumie, being Mumie, needs at least a year or 2 to catch on with what's "Happening" and what's "In". And then another couple of years to figure out how it works. Please enjoy this even if it doesn't turn out very well. This is all of Mumie's blessings and where I share my biggest pride in life.

It would be an injustice to post your earliest pictures here, as they did not honestly reflect the best in you. I remember clearly the beet-red little face, prominently high forehead, deeply etched double eyelids and impossibly dark glossy pupils that seem overlarged for your puffy eyes. There was no mistaking whose eyes you took after. You looked exactly like the miracle that you are. It is not always true that all babies are adorable and mothers naturally find their own babies best. I understand that you are no Poster Baby, but surely the many aunties (both relatives and friends alike) who ceaselessly fawned over you are more sincerely delighted than merely polite. In the many months to follow, you became such a hearthrob that everybody forgives you for being a little rascal. Very few people could deny you of your wishes even though you were not the friendliest baby and you were fast on the Spoilt Brat Track. Even though Mumie could not afford many of the luxuries other Spoilt Brat Babies enjoyed, you were showered with genuine love and always royally protected. Three months saw you as a chubby, well-fed little fellow with a fluffy head of hair. Always seeking for attention, I hardly put you down or leave you alone for a full hour. Not easily ready with your smiles, you nonetheless charmed your way through by welling fat tears in those cunningly cherubic eyes.

At 4 months, adorable as you are, has begun to earn a fair share of spankings. Going through the rites of hair shaving and dressing up in the slightly undersized customary costume (a heirloom from Dadie) was no mean feat. I could only get a single clear shot of before you start brawling in your walker. Around this time I began to intensified my coaching of the single utterance "mumie". You started teething but contrary to all the horror stories of midnight crying fits other mothers used to tell me, I was barely aware of your little molars sprouting within your rosy cheeks. You could hold your own milk bottle and you faithfully stuck to your formula, progressing from Enfalac to Enfapro. You had ceased to regurgitate milk 7 times in between feeds and you enjoyed your Nestle rice powder gruel. You were such a Dadie's boy, capitalising on every chance you have to wrangle favours of all sorts from him. Young as you are, you knew Dadie never would have the heart to deny you of anything or blame you for any of your mischiefs. Mumie is much sterner stuff and definitely a lesser bundle of fun.

At 5 to 7 months you had almost outgrown your bathtub. Still, you were unable to stand for your showers. You were always drooling, and the front of your little shirt was always wet. You smelt so bad! But it was a scent I so dearly loved. Dadie would so often look at your pictures and exclaim:"I fear from my son's looks, he'll grow up to become a genius!" Very often then you would try to enunciate the word "Ma-gie", and your semi-toothless grins were priceless. Your choice of games and toys were exceptional, deriving most of your joys fiddling with my handphone, ignoring the host of rattles, musical instruments, balls and such. You had a morbid fear of soft toys and generally, anything with fur on it. I attempted to give you an early start in education, by introducing you to the alphabet chart which I put up against a low shelf, to make it accessible to you. The plan was duely thwarted within the day, when you insisted in plucking it off to wipe the floor with. You were so fond of chewing on your pacifier, I had to get you a new one every so often. I would have weaned you off if not for the protests of your ridiculously doting Ah-Mah.


You were truly more beautiful by the day. You were such a pleasure to watch and you brought joy to many. You became a familiar face within the neighbourhood which many look forward to see. From the auntie at the porridge stall, to the uncle at the bakery, you were such a sweetheart to all of them that Mumie would receive little treats and extras very often in her marketing. Mumie seldom brought you very far but you enjoyed all the "gai-gai" trips to the marketplace just a few blocks away from home. It was a chore maneuvering your bulky stroller along the narrow alley ways and it always hurt my back to carry you in the stroller up and down stairs. But still, it was so little to do for you.

From 8 months till your first birthday, it was a trying period of time. How could Mumie not be anxious when other babies had begun to take their 1st steps already? Mumie could only fend off those pressing questions of concern and feign an air of confidence that did not quite reach my heart. I read intensively on toddlers' intellectual and physical growth stages and was reaffirmed repeatedly that every child develop at a different pace. Still, it did little to curb the slight twinge that ran through Mumie's gut every time I saw another younger baby stood on two feet. I know I should have the ultimate faith in your eventual success, I should not doubt or hold reservations as to the abilities of my wonder boy. But in time to come, Mumie has learnt from other mummies, that trepidation and foreboding are natural extensions of a mother's love. Stories of infant mortality strike fear easily and many were the nights when I would place a hand over your heart to assure myself you were still with me. You are such a lavish gift to one as insignificant as me, I dread the day destiny might realises its mistake and undo this miracle.

Your first steps occurred between 9-10 months and by your 1st birthday, you owned your first pair of shoes, even though you were yet to be a proficient walking toddler. Following the tradition of most Chinese families, we conducted "Dor Zhei" for you. We placed a pen, a pair of scissors, a calculator and a fried chicken drumstick some 1 metre in front of you and fully anticipated you to make a beeline for the drumstick for you were such a little glutton then. To our surprise, you crawled at incredible speed and grabbed the pen instead. Ah Mah and Ah Goong were of course beside themselves with delight, as it signifies your future endeavours to be of the scholarly type. Coincidentally, Mumie picked the same item 25 years ago! No doubt you seem to have second thoughts and tried to grad a few more items as well, you allowed Mumie to capture a few shots of you holding on to the pen. It was truly priceless. Your 1st birthday bash was held at Hotel Redevous where many aunties and uncles took turns stuffing you with ice-cream and other delicacies. You certainly enjoyed being the centre of attention but the party lasted past your bedtime, and you were sleeping like a little log by the time we were home. You slept through your entire wipe down and nappy change!

Some 2-3 months after your birthday, after much encouragement and goading from Ah Mah and Ah Goong, one day at the void deck, after watching a younger baby girl totter past you, you suddenly decided you are ready for your first unsupported step. You told Ah Goong, through more mimickings than speech, to release you from the stroller, and bravely completed 3 brave unguided steps. Henceforth, you were always eager to show us your baby steps. I seldom saw you stumble, your earliest steps were smooth and sure. If was as if you had a late start to ensure that you would get it right the 1st time. I wanted very much then, to ask you if you were afriad to fall. Did you not believe that Mumie would always be there to catch you and wait for you? Or was it your way of telling Mumie you wish to be an independent little boy?

You absolutely hated cutting your hair as a baby all the way till you were 3 years old. Hair cutting is a chore which Dadie and Mumie would put off till someone mistakes you for a little girl. We seldom bring you to the same hair-dresser twice as it was such an embarassment. You would refuse to sit in the chair or allow them to put a wrap around you. Their attempts to pacify you with candy never works and your wailings tend to make them nervous. Many of them usually politely request we bring you elsewhere on the next visits. Finally we found a hairdresser who was an expert with difficult toddlers and a good match for you. To your dismay, you realise your tantrums had little effect on her, neither could you wriggle your way out of her iron grip. Still, it was heartwrenching at times to hear you sobbing your little heart out in the hair-dressing chair. Very soon, you grew a little sharper. You would avoid taking the path that lead to the hair dressing salon altogether and would either run away or put up a colossal tug-of-war with Mumie. Dadie worked around this problem by buying a hair-dressing kit. To my surprise, you were only too willing to have your hair cut by Dadie. It caused you much discomfort as Dadie was not too handy with the shaver , and even though he did not injure you in any way, there were times you whimpered in pain. Your hair was rather badly cut on that occasion, with uneven patches. Still, when you look at yourself in the mirror, you pronounced yourself "handsome" and insisted you had "fun". Mumie mopped the floor several times for a good 2 hours and Dadie had not voluteered his hair-dressing services ever since.

Being a year end baby had much disadvantage in age as Mumie soon come to realise. For babies and toddlers, even a few weeks apart in date of birth can mean a humongous disparity in age. You were due to to enrolled in N1 in the January of 2006, as that is the year you turn 3 years old. But being a December baby meant you were much slower in speech and motor skills as compared to your peers who were borned earlier within the same year. It was a difficult decision to make, to enroll my first born baby with barely 10 words in vocabulary and untrained in toilet facilities, or to delay you for a year and risk your falling behind his peers. Eventually I chose to delay your enrolment for one academic year, making a silent promise to myself that I'll help you with all the neccessary catching up in future. I was very much taken aback to be informed by the Principal of Sparkletots Bukit Batok that all students must be enrolled according to the year in they were born in and that parents, in general, do not have a choice of accelerating or delaying their children. Hence, even though you had never attended N1, the only available option was still to put you in the N2 class, to be with all the toddlers who were borned in the same year as you. Overnight, all my misgivings and trepidations multiplied three-fold.

Both Dadie and Mumie took leave from work for your first day in school. Mumie had spend some time selecting a Mickey Mouse school bag and a Pooh water bottle with you. Mumie painstakingly labeled all your stationery items, down to each individual colour-pencils in the 24 piece pack. Dadie was worried that you'd cry and put up the 'leg-clinging' act so we decided he would make a break for it as soon as we arrive. There was mutual consent that Mumie could be relied upon to act in a rationale manner inspite of tears and squeals. We arrived at the centre shortly before 1 p.m., as we only signed you up for half-day sessions. All the kids were preparing to take their nap and all lights were dimmed. Dadie and I look exchanged uneasy looks the instant we stepped into the class and heard the drone of kids' muffled sobbing. It reminded me instinctively of the children's ward in a hospital. It was that eerie. We stole a hasty glance at you. You allowed the teacher to led you by the hand and examined the cot showed to you with great curiosity, completely undisturbed by the persistent wails all around you. You proceed to settle down in the cot and join your new found friends in an afternoon slumber. Dadie and I sat at the side keeping an eye on you, expecting you to have a change of opinion about your new environment anytime. But you paid no heed to us and continue to study your new surroundings with unwavering interest. After some 15 minutes, Mumie decided on a bold move and suggested to Dadie we should leave you there for a while and return slightly later to check on you again. Dadie left first to avoid the expected confrontation. You barely looked at me when I walked up to say goodbye. You wave your little hand and nodded that you understand Mumie will be back later. You showed not the slightest hint of uncertainty, only eagerness in this brand new experience. The confrontation Mumie and Dadie had planned to overcome never occured. Babie Zidane's first day of school was perfect to the t. It was not without amusement when I walked out of the centre, recollecting with Dadie all the strategies we had discussed for days on pacification and being firm should you put up a fight at our departure. To this day, I still see the back of your little head and the little limbs stretched out on the cot. I remember clearly too, the undeniable ache in my heart that was a mother's pride at her baby's first attempt at independance. Only mothers understand how it feels to know that their kids are without a kin in an unfamilar place, to try napping without their favourite blankie for the very first time. There is mild regret that this day heralds the first step Babie takes away from Mumie, which will only be followed by many more in all the years to come. This journey of literacy, numeracy and life, might lead you away from the shelter of Mumie's love, but if you follow it true and good, you will discover so much more.

For dearest Babie Zidane, fall in love with life. Life is beautiful only because you are.