Archive for the ‘3-of-us’ Category

November 20, 2007

the S word

I was driving Regine home from the daycare center with Emily. Some asshole suddenly cleared into my lane without an indicator and I reflexed,

“SHITTTTTT lah this guy!!!!!!! @#$%^&*”

And then I moved on… as though nothing had happened.

A little while later, I overheard Regine exclaim from the backseat,

“SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT”, like she was singing along merrily to a kiddy rap song.

Emily had to shush her up for good and chided me for being such an ass to say things like that in front of my kid. Mea culpa, I didn’t talk back.

I can’t help but think about how true it is when people say you learn bad things faster than the good. It’s always easier to pick up profanities and cusses than any proper vocab. That’s because the nature of human is always evil… that’s probably why we need religion and decorums to hold our shit together (there, I said it again).

Just look at Regine. It literally took her days to learn how to say “Hi”, “See you” and “Goodnight”… but it only took her a fraction of a second to pick up that “S” word.

For a moment there, I really felt like an ass.

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 12 Comments
September 24, 2007

the importance of communication

How I wish we humans are able to communicate through telepathic means. Like, through the language barrier and shit, we can just be within a coverage range of each other’s brain signals, and send the message away (pretty much like how wireless works… only biologically). If such were to be the case, then life probably would be so much less stressful for me and Emily – since our baby Regine can just beam us up whenever she wants something instead of bawling out in the middle of the night (there’s only so much we can interpret from the loud bawl of a baby). Just like this…

[telepathic message]
“Daddy? Are you awake?”
“I am now. What do you want?”
“Milk. I’m hungry daddy.”
“At this hour? You should be sleeping, girl.”
“I repeat, I want milk, else I’m going to start bawling.”
“Alright, alright, relax. How many bottles do you want, criminal?”
“What do you mean how many bottles? I just want one fucking shot! Do it already, old man!”
[walks to kitchen, prepares milk and returns with milk]
“Here’s your one fucking shot. Now suck fast and sleep already!”

The whole thing may sound like a complex conversation, but in reality, you’d only see the poor father walking to the kitchen to get the milk (probably with a distressed look on his face, but at least he knows what he has to do). It’ll probably last a little less than half a minute.

But of course, that isn’t happening anywhere in this world at all. If there’s one thing that our evolution failed us, that has got to be our way of communicating with each other. As fucking intelligent or advanced we humans can ever get, there’s still one simple thing we can’t do – to communicate with our offspring, until he or she knows how to listen/speak of course, which I think, is fucking pathetic.

Just look at the animals. They don’t seem to have that kind of problem. Their offspring don’t just simply cry or wail incessantly sending their parents panic attack. Take for example, the wildebeest. Just how do you reckon that a baby wildebeest knows that hyenas are evil and knows when to fucking run for their lives when they’re being attacked? Do they ever attend preschools or watch Barney to learn that? Fuck no. They just know it. Like they have somekind of telepathic shit going on there. And that probably explains why they know it when disasters are bound to struck

“Guys there’s a big fucking tsunami heading this way! Run for your lives! Don’t tell the humans!”

But then, that’s probably a power too big to ask for. I just want to have the ability to interpret what Regine wants. Regine had diarrhea for the whole last week and both Emily and I went through hell of not knowing what she wanted when she was screaming for attention. We gave her everything, but none of them seemed to be what she wanted. And those were the times when I really wished that I have this special ability to communicate with my daughter – things would be so much easier for both of us.

(come think of it, even if we were to be given that ability, it probably might not be of much use after Regine reaches her puberty. She’d be too engrossed with her dipshit teenage friends by then, than wanting her old man/woman to understand her better…)

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 9 Comments
September 6, 2007

backfired

Emily and I always like to ask Regine heaploads of dumb questions (now that she’s beginning to understand the language)… you know, something like –

“Where’s your nose?”
“Where’s your backside?”

… you get the idea.

Each time she is asked with those questions, she’ll never fail to point to the right part on herself in her own cute way – which then, we’ll zealously laugh like we’ve never seen anything like that before… (first time parents, forgive us)

I was exactly doing that yesterday after her bath, complimenting that little tummy of her’s like I always do…

Daddy : “Whose tummy is big big?”

Normally, she’ll just look at her own tummy and smack at it to make us laugh. But she didn’t do that yesterday. Instead, she looked at me square in the eyes and then schlepped towards where I was. She then crouched down, lifted up my T-shirt with her little hand and patted MY TUMMY repeatedly with the other.

I was like, totally dumbfucked with what she just did… and just as I was about to correct her on her obviously big mistake, she stood up and flashed me this devious smile… almost as if she was telling me “I pwn-ed you daddy, muahahahh!!”

There goes her 1 week pocket money… deducted in advance. That was clearly a hit below the belt by a 1 year old. We’ll see how she fares when I ask her about electronics next time…

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 15 Comments
August 7, 2007

Who’s your dadddyyy?

Don’t you find it a bit intriguing that a lot of Chinese medicines seem to have a monochrome ‘face profile’ picture of the inventor/founder/whatever on its label? Well, that was why my Regine refuse to let go of a bottle of Chinese medicated oil she happened to find by the side of the bed the other day… after she saw a picture of a man on the bottle label…

She looked at the picture, then at me, then at the picture… and then uttered out loud…

“DADDDYYY… DADDDYYY…”

I almost choked when I heard that. Emily was laughing like a hyena having a stroke.

I’m sure she was looking at the picture on the left. And I’m even more sure, that I don’t look a wee bit like that rotund fart. (The right one is totally out of the scope). Needless to say, it was a case of mistaken identity – attributed to her relatively new state of face recognition software…

In my desperate bid to redeem my self esteem, I tried to correct her

“Nooo noooo girl, that is NOT DADDY. That is some uncle who looks like William Hung… NOT DADDY”

But the effort was futile. She’d still go,

“DADDDYYY… DADDDYYY…”

The more I corrected her, the more excited she got. I had to stop as I did not want that picture to get ingrained inside her mind. So I tried to steer her attention to something else, which kinda worked, but for only a short while. It was before long she saw that label on the bottle of medicated oil again, and went

“DADDDYYY!!!” [smile]

It hurts.

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 21 Comments
June 30, 2007

attitude

Who said that girls aren’t fond of remote controls?

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 13 Comments