~The Tiger's Tale~

Godpa and Godma

2005-03-27T21:48:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log:-
Age:-

If you've ever watched 'The Godfather', you'll remember Marlon Brando as this huge, imposing, cigar-chewing, kingpin of the Italian mafia, who is about as forgiving as a bed of nails. The fact that he weighs about half a tonne only makes him all the more scary.

Well, think polar opposites, and you end up with a fairly accurate picture of Tiger's godfather, Damien.

Yup, Uncle Damien is pretty much one of the nicest guys you would ever be likely to come across - someone who probably mutters an apology under his breath before he swats a housefly. And I should know; I've known the man for a good two decades now. (He's also pretty different from Brando, in that he typically carries about 1.5% body fat on him at any given time.)

Together with his equally genteel wife, Melody, they make a pretty potent Godparent tag-team. Which is a good thing, since two is always better than one when it comes to taming the Tiger.

That the two of them dote on Tiger is not in doubt. But their real contribution - aside from the very important duty of standing in for us should anything untoward ever take place - is in giving us their unvarnished opinion in all we do as parents.

And that's something Tiger's Mama and I attach no small value to.

First Sentence

2005-03-26T12:05:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: March 2005
Age: 23 months

Well, he had been on the cusp of doing it for awhile now, but this morning, he finally did it!

That's right, on this very day, the 26th of March 2005, little Tiger finally managed to string together his first real sentence! And those momentous words were, fortuitously enough: "Jesus, please help me to be a good boy. Amen".

The background to this was that I had taught him, word by word, this little made-up prayer a few days ago. He had tried to recite it on his own a couple times after that, but would normally need some helpful prompting to finish the sentence.

Up to this point, he'd also been able to manage some very short sentences, like "Mama, brush teeth", "Papa, good night", or even "One minute please" (for when he wanted to play just a little longer).

But we certainly weren't expecting anything like we were about to hear this morning.

As it turned out, we were in the car this morning on our way to breakfast, and I thought he looked kind of lonely at the back in his baby-seat. And so - what with it being the Easter weekend and all - I decided to ask him to say the prayer, I'd taight him, just for fun.

Me: "Tiger, why don't you say a prayer to help you through this day?"

Tiger: "Jee--shus, plis hap me tooo bee ay goood booy. Ah-men!"

And just like that, albeit somewhat haltingly, he'd put together his first whole sentence!

Tiger might not have realised the magnitude of what he'd done, but it was certainly enough to shock the daylights our of his Mama and I.

What else will he have to say from now on, I wonder? Maybe - just maybe - it'll be these words?

Morning Revelry

2005-03-21T21:45:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: -
Age: -

These days, lights out for Tiger usually falls sometime between 9.30pm and 10pm, although his Mama and I have tried in vain to get him to sleep earlier. Rise-and-shine comes - all too early - a little before 7am most times.

Depending on which side of the bed he gets up on, Tiger can either be the most angelic little cherub in the mornings, or the grumpiest grouch since Oscar on Sesame Street.

On those days when he's had a good night's sleep, his eyelids bat open lazily after a few attempts, with a contented smile emerging as he realises that a whole new day of fun lies ahead. For the first five minutes or so, he has this habit of lying virtually motionless in bed, staring wistfully into space as if comtemplating his itinerary for the day. And - probably because he can't write just yet - he'll mutter whole verses of baby gobbledygook to himself just so he remembers what he's planned.

And then, when he's ready, he'll launch into Part 2: waking Papa and Mama. Things start subtly at first. Beginning with whispers which gradually build to insistent yelps, Tiger alternates between calls of "Papa", "Mama" and "Good Morning", relenting only when one of us wakes up to play with him. It's only after a good 10 minutes or so of playful poking, nose-rubbing, hair-pulling and tickling that he'll agree to have some breakfast.

Then, of course, there are the less-than-cheery days. If we're lucky, he simply hauls himself up, slides off the bed, and heads out of the room in search of Aunt Lil for his milk. And if we're not, well, let's just say that the phrase "not a morning person" doesn't even begin to describe it. The grumpy one simply refuses any attempt to coax him to breakfast, swatting us away with well-placed backfists, protesting "No, no, no!"

And no, I haven't got a picture of that to show for just yet.

Going Green

2005-03-20T07:23:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: March 2005
Age: 23 months

Having a garden - however small - is perhaps not the easiest thing in the world when you live in an HDB flat.

Actually, "garden" probably isn't even the right word , since there really isn't a lawn to begin with - just some space which we've "less-than-legally" appropriated along the corridor outside our flat. So, as you can see, our "garden" is actually more a modest collection of potted greenery than anything else, haphazardly arrayed on a wooden display frame.

A couple of days ago, Tiger's mama decided that we'd had enough of passive gardening. It was simply too much of a cop-out, she insisted, to just buy them ready-to-go (from Ikea no less!) and just nurture them along.

And so, armed with the firm belief that green fingers can be cultivated (even in relatively late adulthood), she bodly went about her inaugural DIY planting job. Her first experiment: parsley. With Tiger watching curiously, she proceeded to embed the seeds in soil...

... before watering the mix lightly.

Of course, we haven't been able to be as adventurous indoors, but we've nonetheless attempted to inject some flora in the home as well. Our initial fear was that Tiger, inquisitive as he is, would lay waste to the plants quicker than you could say "deforestation". Thankfully though, he's been quite receptive to them, even volunteering to help water them on occasion.

As for the parsley, here's what they look like after about 4-5 days of TLC.

Not the fastest of growers, to be sure, but Tiger's Mama was ecstatic. "See, I told you they'd grow," she said jubilantly.

I guess she was right. After all, didn't we bring Tiger up from scratch as well?

Along came Baby Raeanne

2005-03-14T21:43:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Feb 2005
Age: 22 months

I've probably mentioned a couple of times before that opportunities for Tiger to interact and socialise with others in his age group are few and far between.

This has been especially so since we took the doctor's advice to have him stay away from playschool for two months or so, until the kiddy-virus which had plagued him for the past month or so had completely subsided.

So we were pleased as punch when Baby Raeanne (pronounced Raye-Ann) came along for a visit.

Baby Raeanne's Daddy and I go back a long way, back to when we were both discharging our National Service obligations eons ago. It seems like just yesterday that we were a couple of young punks going ga-ga over the babes. All of a sudden, here we were, watching our babies going ga-ga. Who woulda thunk it?

Born in August last year, Baby Raenne is more than a whole year younger than Tiger, although you wouldn't necessarily be able to tell by looking at her. She's certainly a little bigger than most other kids her age, and from what I can tell, a good deal more aware of what's going on around her too. She's got large doe-eyes that remind me of Tiger's in some ways, which narrow into slits whenever she breaks into a smile.

Now, first impressions are everything, they say. And even though Tiger and Baby Raeanne had met before, they hadn't exactly been formally introduced (Baby Rae would either be sleeping, or Tiger in a less than sociable mood).

So this time, we decided to try to help things along a little. After a little perfunctory small talk, we nudged the two little ones closer to each other.

First introductions were tentative to say the least. The two eyed each other with a wary gaze, perhaps wondering if this was yet another infantile attempt by their parents to force a friendship (they were right!).

Tiger was probably the less attentive of the two, his gaze shifting at times to other distractions.

After some time, it seemed like Baby Raeanne had had enough of Tiger's non-commital stance, and promptly decided to initiate some contact of her own. Unfortunately, none of us could tell for sure if it was a loving caress across his cheeks, or a frustrated grasp for attention.

Oh well, it's a start I guess.

Lunar New Year (Part III)

2005-03-14T17:38:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Feb 2005
Age: 22 months

Not surprisingly, the first stop of our Chinese New Year visiting tour was at Tiger's Great Grandma's. We were the first to arrive that morning, but by lunchtime, Great Grandma's humble 3-room abode was overflowing at the rafters, as more and more relatives piled into the flat.

Here you can see Tiger, his Mama and Lil hamming it up for the camera, while poor Great Grandma makes some last minute phone calls to determine who was coming and who wasn't. (By the way, she had single-handedly whipped up lunch for us all, and was especially concerned to ensure that that no one missed out - whether accidentally or deliberately - on her cuisine.)

I wish I would have been able to snap a picture of the crowd that eventually accumulated, but I was probably too immersed in chatting with my relatives - folks I usually see only on an annual basis.

Here's one that I did manage to capture though, with Aunty Wendy.

An interesting aside here: Said Aunty was a real favourite of mine when I was a boy. In my younger years, she would whisk me off to the now-defunct MPH bookstore at Stamford Place, where I could while away the entire afternoon, before she would then proceed to take me on a shopping spree for clothes and toys. We then lost contact for more than 15 years before serendipitously re-uniting recently. She now claims that Tiger reminds her a lot of myself as a boy, and I'm therefore hoping rather deviously that she'll likewise take Tiger out on weekends every now and then as well...

We also stopped by Aunty Yamei's home a few days later. Aside from the fact that we had inexplicably chosen to drape a Hawaiian beach shirt over him for Chinese New Year, this was also memorable for the fact that Tiger did the honours when it came time to present the Mandarin oranges to Aunty Yamei. He even insisted on toting the little red bag all personally on the way there.

An ex-neighbour of mine and a longtime family friend, Aunty Yamei fawned over Tiger and constantly urged his Mama and I to start working on Tiger version 2. A mother of three herself, she understandably advocated the joys of a 3-child household and constantly urged us to get it over with post-haste, or in her words: "like do-re-mi".

Tiger, meanwhile, was far more concerned with engaging in a little tete-a-tete with Aunty Yamei's pooch, Happy.

There were a few other visits over the next couple of days, but I guess we're not the most prolific when it comes to doing the Chinese New Year rounds. Still, I'd say it was a pretty enjoyable new year season, shortened only when I had to leave for my reservist stint in the Army.

Lunar New Year (Part II)

2005-03-13T23:28:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Feb 2005
Age: 22 months

Our other reunion dinner was again a low-key affair, and another dine-in experience as well.

This time, it was at our own home, with Tiger's Great Grandma
filling the VIP spot at the table.

Taking pride of place at the centre of the dinner table was a Lunar New Year tradition that goes back a long way on my side of the family. The very aptly named 'Steamboat' - an Asian fondue of sorts - had us all eagerly watering at the mouth, Tiger included.

We'd prepared a truckload of delights all ready to be tossed into the steaming broth: sliced fish, squid, fresh "tang-oh" veggies, liver, fishball, and of course, abalone.

(Incidentally, this was our first reunion dinner experience with an electric Steamboat set. Tiger's Great Grandma had typically insisted on doing things the traditional way, with her ancient charcoal-fuelled kiln and stove. But in the interests of saving her the trouble, we'd opted for the new-fangled option this year instead.)

Tiger, it seemed, was as fascinated with the Steamboat dinner - his first - as he was with the yu-Sheng feast. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite old enough to be able to cook his own food in the boil, but he seemed quite content to watch and play make-believe chef with the "tang-oh" veggies.

Lunar New Year (Part I)

2005-03-11T21:41:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Feb 2005
Age: 22 months

According to the lunar calendar, this is the year of the Rooster.

As far as horoscopes go, the Rooster symbolises honesty and practicality. (Although it seems to me that no matter which animal horoscope prevails - good luck and prosperity somehow find their way into the prediction for the year ahead.)

Up until this year, though, Chinese New Year was to me, simply an occasion where 5 things would invariably come to pass; namely:

1. We would be having a couple of reunion dinners
2. We would be visiting friends and relatives quite a bit
3. I would be handing out a fair few red packets...
4. ...some of which would end up back in Tiger's pocket
5. I would get a few rounds of Mahjong under my belt.

Oh well, 4 out of 5 ain't bad. Mahjong was initially on the cards, but at the last minute, we felt guilty pulling an all-nighter without Tiger.

It should be obvious by now that the true meaning of Chinese New Year is generally lost on me. Truth be told, I'm not the most traditional of people when it comes to celebrating my Chinese ancestry. Not that I'm not proud of it, mind you; but it's just something I haven't paid quite enough attention to over the years I guess. (Sad, I know.)

So it's understandable that Tiger's Mama - who is as rootsy as they come - is worried that my kantang-ness (a Hokkien colloquillism for potato, or Westernised Chinese) might rub off onto Tiger.

So for this Chinese New Year, I really made an effort to try and get into the spirit.

Heck, we even managed to get Tiger into some traditional Chinese garb, which after some getting used to, he seemed to like.

Reunion dinner at my in-laws' was fun. For some reason, we usually eschew the fancy 10-course extravaganza that restaurants milk the common folk every Chinese New Year, in favour of a simple - but no less hearty - meal at home.

No, for as long as I've known them, my in-laws have faithfully stuck to the "instant" version of yu-sheng (raw fish), that stalwart of all reunion dinners.

You simply tear open the myriad packets of ingredients, along with the sauces and spices, arrange them neatly along the circumference of the plate, and voila! Yummy ready-to-eat yu-sheng in the comfort of your own home.

(Lucky us though, we had abalone (yup, abalone!) in place of raw fish, because Tiger's mum has a tummy which reacts quite violently to the stuff.)

For the record, this was in fact our second Chinese New Year with Tiger around, although thanks to his lazy Papa, last year's affair went undocumented. This year though, he was certainly much better able to take in the experience. The traditional tossing of the yu-sheng, for instance, was something I explained to him a couple of times over. You know, the importance of family , that kind of thing. Here's the family, by the way (sans me, the photographer):

I don't know how much of what I said got through to Tiger, but he seemed to be quite intrigued by the whole process.

In any case, it's an experience I hope he'll be able to remember, even if only because I hope he doesn't turn out to be a Western potato.

Look who's Back!

2005-03-10T21:10:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log:-
Age:-

Well, it's been long overdue, but we're finally back!

It must have been close to a month since I last updated this blog - a long long time, I know - but I have my reasons (read: excuses).

First, Tiger's virus re-surfaced yet again since the last post, so we were again kept busy trying to suppress his temperature and sneezing fits. Then, before I knew it, I was whisked off for reservist duties in the Army. For a couple of weeks, I found myself charging up various assorted hills and knolls in jungles that I would otherwise not have even known existed in Singapore.

Needless to say, I wasn't too sad to finally be home once my duties had been discharged. Tiger, I'm told, was constantly cooing "Papa" and telling anyone who'd listen that I was in the "Er-mee".

All that "Er-mee" talk probably got to him, because no sooner had I removed my boots and jockey cap, than he proceeded to claim them for himself.

Believe it or not, I actually felt a little guilty about letting the blog lie fallow for this long. All this blogging must really be growing on me, because in a weird kind of way, not posting made me feel almost as though I was failing to keep up with Tiger's progress.

(That sounded a tad psychotic, didn't it?)

The bottom line, though, is that this blog is finally going to be brought back up to speed.

It's good to be back!

On that Note...

2005-02-01T16:49:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Feb 2005
Age: 22 months

Lately, it seems like Tiger might be taking a bit of an interest in musical instruments after all (drums not included).

His requests for a tune on the old guitar have gotten a little more frequent, even if they revolve around old standards such as the theme song from Bob the Builder (classic 3-chord rawwk-fest!) and If You're Happy And You Know It (all that clapping of hands and stamping of feet really gets him going).

Tiger's also starting to fancy himself as a bit of a guitar virtuoso, I think. Of course, his playing style might be somewhat unorthodox. As you can tell, it involves the instrument being placed face-up on the ground, guitar pick in one hand strumming away randomly, with no chording to speak of whatsoever.

Well, it's a start I guess.

He's also started humming!

During his bedtime yesterday, I placed him down on his pillow next to me, and started droning out some lullabyes as always. Amazingly, he actually started humming along! But instead of going "Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm", he went "Mi mi mi" over and over again, and with hand gestures to boot!

Okay, so it wasn't exactly in tune, and putting him to bed did take 30 minutes longer than usual, but needless to say, I was tickled pink.

You Give me Fever

2005-01-31T19:22:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Well, it's official. Tiger is pretty darn ill.

His temperature shot up to nearly 40 degrees celsius last night, and all manner of icky green fluid has been trickling down out of his nostrils with no end in sight. The rest of us at home have taken to stuffing our pockets with tissue paper, so that we can quickly whip a piece out to swab the offending goo-ball the moment we see it.

And thus far, that's been plenty often.

Tiger's been ill before of course, but what makes this round particularly worrisome for me is the fact that it's been on and off for the past month.

It concerned the doctor quite a bit too apparently. When we saw him last night, the good doctor admitted that it was a little difficult deciding on a prescription for Tiger. The normal treatment would be antibiotics, but previous courses haven't done the trick.

We agreed that it could simply be a consequence of his first month at playschool, when kids are exposed to a whole new world of virulent germs. It might simply be a matter of getting used to the environment after awhile. That was cold comfort to us though, what with Tiger still heating up like a furnace.

To his credit, Tiger has taken it all quite well, I have to say. Aside from going ballistic when we took him to the doctor (which is par for the course as far as Tiger's concerned), he's behaved pretty much the way he usually does, eating, playing and watching his beloved Elmo on VCD.

The persistent cough has become really hard on him though. Each time he hacks, you can literally hear all the phlegm gurgling away in his insides.

The thermometer checks are still a must for now; we've been told it might be trouble if the medication prescribed doesn't curb his fever spikes.

Please get well soon, Tiger. Papa's hurting too.

Playroom

2005-01-30T01:23:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

When he's not watching his Elmo VCD for the 1,000,001th time, this is where Tiger spends most of this time at home: his Playroom.

At least, that's what we're calling it for now. Although there's a bed in the room, it's not for Tiger - he still sleeps in our room - but for his Wai Gong and sleepover guests. The plan is to ease Tiger into the room, so he'll be more comfortable sleeping there on his own eventually. (Still, you know what they say about the best laid plans...)

For now though, it's where Tiger goes to play with his (mostly hand-me-down) collection of soft toys, tear up his books, play with his toy trains, and scrawl away on his magic-doodle board.

It's a modest enough set-up, but Tiger quite enjoys it, I think. He particularly likes us to be with him in the room, either reading to him from one of his tattered picture books, or just cheering him on as he plays make-believe with his toys.

Another favourite of his is the height chart that we'd pinned up to the wall. Just to make sure he hasn't shrunk overnight, the height chart is usually Tiger's first stop when we go to his Playroom, before he reaches for his other toys.

There's a little parallax error happening in this photo, but he's about 88 or 89 centimetres tall now, apparently.

Lovin' An Elevator

2005-01-29T23:34:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log:-
Age:-

Even for typical HDB suburbanites in Singapore, we live pretty high up - on the 25th storey to be exact.

And while that does make for a pretty good view of the island, it also means that Tiger sometimes feels a little removed from it all. Each time he looks out the window, pointing and naming the cars, buses, trees, buildings, birds or the ships berthed out at sea, I wonder if he wishes he were outside instead.

I think that's why the otherwise ubiquitous elevator ride seems to be such a joy for him. It's come to mean much more to him than that, I think. For Tiger, it heralds the beginning of another thrilling adventure outdoors - whether it's to the zoo, the shopping mall, or simply to the neighbourhood playground.

It's become his magical conduit to the world outside his home.

So, unless he's already in a bad mood, Tiger typically delights in taking the elevator down from our flat. Depending on what strikes his fancy, he'll either do a rousing Scottish riverdance, wave hello and bye-bye to fellow elevator-commuters, or discretely reach for the alarm bell in the lift, until the 25-storey descent comes to an end.

Monster

2005-01-29T22:23:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log:-
Age:-

If you've ever wondered what a real monster is supposed to sound like, Tiger is usually more than willing to give you a free demonstration.

For the record, it's a low (well, for a toddler anyway) rumbling growl that goes something like "WWWHHOOOOOOHHH!!!!"

Just don't ask him to repeat it too many times.

I managed to film a short video clip here of Tiger doing his monster sounds.

Great Grandma

2005-01-26T19:50:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: -
Age:-

Tiger has one surviving great-grandparent - his Tai Po, i.e. his Papa's maternal grandmother.

She's a spritely 78-year old lady who still lives alone in her own two-room flat (and won't have it any other way, thank you very much), does her own grocery shopping and occasionally brews a frightfully exotic concoction of herbal bug soup which she insists does her a world of good.

Not surpisingly, she also thinks the world of her great-grandson, whom she swears is a dead-on replica of his father when he was a baby. Truth is, our only resemblance lies in his big eyes, which Tai Po says look like longans.

Much to Tai Po's dismay, Tiger did not take too well to her at first.

Maybe it was her voice (which is shatter-your-glasses-loud at the softest of times), or perhaps it was just her rather dimly-lit flat, but Tiger just would not warm up to Tai Po. Each time she tried to hug him, he would try to squirm free like a slippery eel.

Thankfully though, things have begun to change.

Tiger now rather enjoys scampering around her flat, and revelling in the realisation that Tai Po will simply not have her stupid grandson and his wife (i.e. me and Tiger's Mama) scolding him, no matter how naughty he gets.

She's also realised that bribing Tiger with food goes a long way.

Here's what she managed to get out of him after offering him a taste of her soya-sauce chicken.

The Slumber Twins

2005-01-24T22:03:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Don't tell Tiger's Mama, but I sometimes sneak in on their Saturday afternoon naps to snap a quick picture or two.

More and more people have been telling us how much Tiger is resembling his mother these days, and judging from these photos, it seems their sleeping habits are eerily identical too.

Lip Service

2005-01-23T13:29:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Tiger's now suffering from what must be a hideously painful ulcer on the front of his lower lip, judging by the sheer size of the thing.

According to the doctor, it's not an aphthous ulcer - the type that keeps recurring for no apparent reason (or because of "heatiness", if you're into traditional Chinese medicine). Nope, Tiger sustained it some days back at the neighbourhood playground, where he apparently ran mouth first into one of the apparatus.

It must sting like crazy whenever he eats or drinks, but to his credit, he hasn't really shown much discomfort.

The doctor put Tiger on some antiseptic medication, and told us to stop the commonly-used Bonjela gel on him, because of its alcohol content. Problem is, Tiger doesn't take too well to the prescription; it probably stings.

The ulcer should go away in a week or so, or so the doc says. And if it doesn't? We might have to take Tiger back to the clinic, where apparently, the doctor might have to literally scrape all the "sluff" (or sediment) off the wound, to quicken the healing process.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

Lullabye

2005-01-22T11:37:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: -
Age: -

Putting Tiger to sleep each night is a much easier thing to do these days. Particularly now since he's at playschool in the mornings - which means he no longer naps before lunch - he's often ready for some shuteye by about 9.30 pm every night, after a quick lactose fix.

Unlike before, we no longer have to cradle him to sleep in our arms. He usually dozes off quickest with his head slumped over my shoulder, or if he's really knackered, he'll simply roll over in bed and fall fast asleep.

Still, things don't always go according to plan and once in awhile, Tiger does try to stay awake a little longer than he ought to.

On those occasions, I usually have one last ace up my sleeve: my own lullabye.

I can't quite remember exactly when I came up with the words and melody to this little two-verse lullabye, but I think it must have been when Tiger was about five or six months old.

In as sonorous a voice as possible, I croon these two verses for as many times as it takes:

Goodnight my son
My precious little one
It's time to close your eyes
The day is done, the night has come
This is your Lullabye

So dream away another day
As you drift away
And come what may
You'll always have someone
Your Papa and his son

It's a dinky little tune, and not exactly a masterpiece, but I think Tiger likes it.

I'm not sure why I haven't yet come up with the rest of the lullabye. But I guess I like these verses enough - for now, at least - to not mind repeating them over and over again when I have to.

The Crime of Hypocrisy

2005-01-21T18:44:00.000+08:00

Tiger's Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Violence begets violence, I always tell myself (and anyone within earshot) when the temptation to spank Tiger gets a little too strong. As far as possible, I'd like spanking to remain a non-realised form of discipline in our household.

While there may well be pros and cons to it, what I would like to say here really isn't about spanking at all. It's about violence and hypocrisy.

I was taught a humbling lesson today, from an incident which I'm still learning from. The incident itself doesn't bear recounting here, but suffice to say that I responded to a provocation (from a complete stranger) with more aggresion than was warranted. While blows were thankfully avoided, I certainly raised my voice loud enough to wake up the dead, and was perhaps not all that far away from physical conflict.

The worst part? Tiger saw the whole thing.

Which means that he saw his Papa turn aggressive, shout and curse, for a reason he could not possibly comprehend. It means that like it or not, I've contributed to some false impression in his mind that violence is a natural solution to problems. Not surprising, since he naturally looks up to his father as a role model, a role which I've certainly denigrated in no small measure thanks to my actions.

When Tiger's mama told me how scared he was when he saw me so furious, I was - in all honesty - besieged with guilt. I realised to my dismay my own hypocrisy in so flippantly tossing around the 'violence begets violence" mantra, when I myself was so ready to succumb to aggression.

It's certainly no exaggeration to say that whatever virtues you desire for your children, you must first be able to exemplify them yourself. Otherwise, it's all just wishful thinking.

As for me, I can only hope and pray that I am able to set a better example for Tiger henceforth. There is perhaps no greater disappointment for a man than to realise that his children cannot look to him as an example.

In doing what I did today, I am certain that I did more violence to Tiger than anyone else.

Zooropa (Part III)

2005-01-21T17:06:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Not that I ever thought I'd be posting Zooropa (Part III), but here it is: the long-awaited climax of the trilogy.

Actually, what made this particular visit (our third in three weeks!) somewhat special was that we had some good friends - namely, Baby Day and his parents - for company.

It was a good thing we set out bright and early; we started at around 9 in the morning before the sun really got going (and did it ever!). Heading in, we tried to rent one of the kiddy push-carts for Baby Day and Tiger, which would make getting around a lot easier, but as luck would have it, they were all out.

In any case, the two boys were again fairly oblivious to the other's presence, and it was us parents who were interacting more with them instead.

Baby Day was his usual well-behaved self, happily drinking and napping at the appointed times, and beaming ear-to-ear a lot. For his part, Tiger also behaved quite a bit better than we would have expected, and got on fabulously with Baby Day's mummy and daddy. (I guess playschool has opened him up a bit, since he no longer seems as reticent as before.)

Tiger managed to get his hands on some horses, sheep and goats at the farm enclosure, and was later fascinated by a small platoon of raccoons.

Here's Baby Day's mum snapping away for her own blog.

All in all, a fun day out, probably as much for us dads and mums as it was for the two boys.

Bird Park next, anyone?

Look what I Did!

2005-01-21T16:40:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Almost four weeks into playschool, Tiger came home one day with his first piece of "schoolwork" to show for.

Proudly brandishing a sky-blue folder around the living room as his Mama and I gave him an encouraging round of applause, he finally relented long enough for us to take a look at what was inside.

And there they were, his two maiden attempts at colouring: two abstractly hued teddy bears on one page, and on the other, a rooster which looked like it was trying to escape a fire.

All right, so they were more like random scrawls, and maybe the pictures he was supposed to colour meant nothing to him, but so what? He had put pen (or colour pencil) to paper, and created art (which is always subjective anyway, I add defensively).

I wonder if I'll turn out to be one of those gushing, shmaltzy parents who pin their kids' masterpieces on their refridgerator doors?

Nahhh.

I'll get them framed instead, I think.

The School of Hard Knocks

2005-01-21T15:58:00.001+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Before Tiger ever came into my life, I used to begrudge my own parents in some measure for sheltering me somewhat too much - at least until I was a teenager. What was the point, I reasoned? After all, don't mistakes become apparent only if there are real consequences to be suffered?

But knee deep into fatherhood, I now realise that all that bravado counts for precious little when it's your own child you're talking about.

As much as I would love to cavalierly say that I'm the kind of dad who doesn't over-protect, that's often the hardest thing to do. In fact, it goes against all parental instincts, if I'm being honest.

But that's where a certain degree of willpower is needed I guess. Whether it's Tiger climbing something that's a little too high or sticking his fingers between drawers, I try to exercise some self-restraint and make do with a firm warning.

"No, don't do that or you'll hurt yourself," is my typical caution.

And if that fails, then the next time I'll intervene is after the deed is done, and when the consequences become apparent. In between soothing a bruised knee, or sticking a band-aid over a cut, I tell him that's why he should not be doing these things.

Of course, I do draw the line somewhere. Needless to say, any risk of serious injury is to be avoided at all costs, learning from mistakes be damned.

I'm not sure he always understands, but I can only hope that he does, because the only thing tougher than taking a fall yourself, is watching your child take it instead.

Zooropa (Part II)

2005-01-21T08:05:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Our second trip to the zoo was a lot better, at least weather-wise. With the sun out, we were able to explore more without having to jump onto a tram for shelter at the first sign of rain.

This time, Tiger was introduced to snakes, lizards, more wild cats, deer, zebras and rhinos. I don't know about him, but what certainly amazed me most were the crocodiles and alligators which were much larger than I care to remember.

There's also a huge playground for kids at the zoo (complete with wading pool), where Tiger managed to thoroughly exhaust himself before sinking into a 2-hour nap right about lunchtime.

The Tiger's Tales

2005-01-15T06:51:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: -
Age: -

Occasionally, Tiger will go into a strange pensive state, during which he seems to reflect on some deep esoteric mystery.

Babbling half-intelligible words and phrases, he almost appears to be story-telling sometimes, alternating between various expressions as he escapes into his own private world. He's particularly happy when we respond in kind, and will go on with his story for as long as you care to listen, or until he runs out of new ideas.

We caught him ruminating like this one Sunday in the living room, just before one of our weekend outings.

Other than in the last picture here - where he probably thinks the comb is a pistol - I can only guess at what he's thinking about in times like these.

Zooropa (Part I)

2005-01-14T21:54:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Considering his namesake, it's not surprising that Tiger loves the zoo. We took him there for the first time last weekend, and he really had quite a blast.

It was with a delightful mix of curiostiy, intrigue and wonderment that he took in his maiden experience with the animal kingdom. Bug-eyed and jaw agape, he came face-to-face with proboscis monkeys, lions, Siberian tigers, African elephants, dung beetles, and even tarantulas, just to name a few.

To him, it was clearly akin to stepping into a whole new world, where the images in his picture books sprang miraculously to life, and the animal sounds we'd been teaching to mimic suddenly made new sense.

Here's a shot of Tiger trying to befriend a lemur.

The maps that we got upon entry also came in handy, as Tiger often had the first say on which animal we should visit next.

If there was one negative though, it was the rather unpleasant weather, which alternated between damp and torrential. Still, we managed to cope, relying on the shelter of the trams which ply the major routes of the zoo, or popping into one of the many food outlets for a quick pick-me-up each time the weather turned nasty.

The rain meant two things though:

1. We weren't able to get too many good shots of Tiger with the animals; and
2. We've an excuse to go again next weekend!

Now before you go thinking that our wallets need lightening - an adult ticket (plus tram ride) normally sets you back a princely $18 - Tiger's mama had the good sense to invest in a Friends of the Zoo card for the family. Which means that for a one-time payment of $100, we get to go as many times in a year as we want, with a fair number of free tram rides, food discounts, and parking coupons thrown in for good measure.

More words and pictures after our next visit then! Fingers crossed on the weather!

Stuffed!

2005-01-10T23:12:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: January 2005
Age: 21 months

Just for a lark, I stuffed Tiger into the wicker basket normally reserved for his collection of stuffed toys.

He fit in quite well, I must say.

Word Up!

2005-01-10T23:05:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

At about 3 months shy of his second birthday, Tiger’s vocabulary is one of the top concerns on his Mama’s mind. “Is he learning to speak quickly enough?” she constantly asks.

Despite my repeated re-assurances, she’s always a little worried that Tiger might be behind the curve. The all-knowing magazines and baby bibles which always seem to advise that “your baby should now be speaking xx number of words” don’t help much either.

As far as I can tell, there’s nothing wrong with his vocabulary, although his diction might be lacking somewhat to be sure. He’s constantly pointing at objects and identifying them by name, like “bus”, “ball”, “car”, “grass” or “shoe”. (Even though to us, they sound more like “bussth”, “baw”, “cah”, grassth” and “tchoo” respectively.)

He calls me “Papa” and her “Mama”, and our domestic helper Lil is “Jeje” to him. Other important people in his life include his grandparents (“Wai Po”, “Wai Gong”, “Po Po” and “Gong Gong”) as well as – surprise, surprise – “Elmo” and “Bob” (the Builder).

He’s also approximated – and I use that term loosely – the sounds of everyday words like “bye bye”, “please”, “go”, “come”, and “yes”, and uses them to good effect most times.

At last count, I reckon Tiger’s command of the spoken language is somewhere in the area of about 100 words, although he understands considerably more. (Can you imagine how frustrating it might be to be a baby? Not being able to talk back to adults who constantly yell instructions at you?)

His favourite word though, is indisputably “no”.

Looks like I’ll have to start getting used to taking no for an answer.

Off to School (Part III)

2005-01-10T22:03:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Well, it's official. Tiger has completed two full weeks of playschool and today was the start of his third.

If I were to give him a report card, it'd be an A for effort. The little trooper has gamely braved separation anxiety, a strange new environment and a horde of other unfamiliar little tykes, and come out the better for it.

Not that it's all on cruise control just yet, but at least the crying ceases within a half hour or so these days, according to his teachers. He's even let them bathe and feed him, which is really something by his standards.

He still demands to be carried from time to time though. Last week, we discovered that one of the teachers actually hurt her back cos Tiger turned out to be a little heavier than she'd expected. The limp didn't bother her too much, she assured us.

Tiger also continues to protest a little in the mornings when asked to put on his uniform though. He probably wishes it could be a bit more colourful, I think.

Off to School (Part II)

2005-01-05T21:08:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

We finally decided on this one place that was a 5 minute drive from our home. (Actually, this was Tiger's second playschool. He'd spent his first 2 days at a different one, until we discovered a more suitable alternative.)

The plan was simple. We would drive him there on our way to work each morning, while our domestic helper, Lil, would pick him up after lunch and send him home.

Anticipating some teething problems, Tiger's mama and I dutifully took a couple of days off from work to see him through those first few days.

He seemed every bit the eager beaver that morning as we ushered him out of the house, along with his carefully packed haversack (containing a diaper and spare change of clothes).

Things got a little more tense once we got to the playschool though. Tiger protested uneasily as soon as we got to the front door. He refused to take his shoes off, as if knowing that once he did, he'd be abandoned to the mercy of the teachers for the remainder of the morning.

Inside, he was not a happy camper, alternating between pitiful whines and adamant snarls. His constant mantra, as he jabbed repeatedly in the direction of the exit: "Papa, Mama! Go! Go!"

He even tried to make a run for it at one point, grabbing his bag from the shelf before dashing for the door. Poor guy.

Tiger's Mama and I of course, had to fight our instincts to "rescue" him from his plight. They say the first couple of weeks are the toughest; the more we gave in, the longer it'd take him to ease out of the separation anxiety.

So gritting our teeth, we peered at Tiger from outside the schoolhouse, careful to stay out of his line of sight.

(to be continued...)

Off to School (Part I)

2005-01-04T14:51:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

It seems like one minute you're cooing goo-goos and ga-gas to them, and the next minute it's off to school, uniforms and all.

That's right, at the ripe old age of 21 months, Tiger's now into his second week of school. Well, it's really just child care at this point actually, and it's only on weekday mornings, but it's been enough to get his Mama and I excited.

Not that we were too eager to enrol him at such a tender age. Quite the contrary; we had actually planned to keep him at home at least until he turned two and a half years old. He'd have more than ample time in school later anyway, we reasoned.

Nonetheless, it was fast becoming apparent that he needed more interaction with other children. As our friends' children were either considerably older or younger than Tiger, his opportunities to play with others his age were few and far between.

In keeping with her market research profession, Tiger's Mama had quite comprehensively scouted out the various child-care centres near our home. We did our research on the internet, attended the schools' open house days, and spoke with principals and teachers.

Tiger came along too for the open house sessions, and certainly looked like he had fun on those occasions...

(to be continued...)

Catching Up

2005-01-02T01:33:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

Well, I've finally done it. Caught up, that is.

If it hasn't already been apparent, the previous flurry of posts thus far on this blog has been a direct consequence of starting on this endeavour so late - some 20 months since Tiger was born.

In my attempt to document at least the more significant moments thus far, I regret that somethings will inevitably have been left out. Had I been less tardy, I would have been able to recall so much more, and much more readily.

Still, I'm glad I've met my objective of catching up by the turn of the year.

That's freed me up to now write about Tiger's ongoing (mis)adventures, which will certainly be quite fun for me.

From time to time though, I might still re-visit some of his past exploits, but by and large, I hope my discipline holds out enough for me to keep the blog fairly current.

Another day, another page...

Hello, Goodbye

2005-01-01T08:42:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Jan 2005
Age: 21 months

2005 has come upon us, even as the grimness of the tsunami tragedy remains fresh in our minds - a reminder of the unrelenting transience that we all face.

As I bang out these thoughts on my computer, Tiger sits on my lap, busily fiddling with the stationery on the workdesk, occasionally reaching for the mouse, and interrupting me on the keyboard. But all I can think of is how unthinkably blessed I am to have him with me.

It's sad that it sometimes takes a catastrophe of such ferocity to jolt us out of our comfort zones.

But human nature is a forgetful one, and in days - perhaps weeks - even this will likely be relegated to a mere footnote in our memories, a one-liner at the coffee machine at the office.

That, I think, would be the greater tragedy.

Lest We Forget

When Baby Day came a'Knocking

2004-12-31T23:59:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Dec 2004
Age: 20 months

A surefire sign that you've known someone a long time, is when your kids start playing with each other.

That's exactly what happened one Sunday a few weeks back.

Tiger was wondering what in the world we were doing at home on a weekend - a rarity of sorts - when a new friend appeared at our front door.

Baby Day (who has his own blog here), with his mum in tow, had braved a cross-island MRT ride to pay us a visit. Having known each other since we were teenagers back in junior college (has it really been that long?!), Baby Day's mum and I were naturally hoping that he and Tiger would hit it off.

It was not to be unfortunately. While no fisticuffs were exchanged, the two little ones kept mostly to themselves, and were quite content to play separately save for the odd stare of curiosity every now and then.

Oh well, they're still babies I guess.

Cheery and chubby, Baby Day must be one of the most well-behaved little cherubs I've seen for a long time. Thankfully, with Tiger in one of his better moods, we managed to get through the afternoon without much drama.

Us parents even managed to get them both to take a catnap at the same time so we could have a nice little chat!

I'm sure Baby Day and Tiger will see each other a whole lot more in time to come.

Christmas 2004

2004-12-31T22:44:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: December 2004
Age: 20 months

Christmas this year made me realise how even the oldest family traditions can change when children come along.

For as long as I can remember, Christmas in my family has almost always begun with a midnight mass on the eve of Yuletide.

This year, however, we attended Christmas mass on the morning of the day itself.

The reason: Tiger's 10pm bedtime call.

For sure, Tiger's Mama and I were a little disappointed at having to miss midnight mass. Still, we know we did the right thing. Going without him was not an option, since the mass is after all a familial celebration. On the other hand, what would be the point of attending midnight mass and having him sleep through the whole thing?

Midnight mass isn't the only tradition that's changed.

We've also started visting Orchard Road for photos with the Christmas light-up, something the crowd-fearer in me would never have thought of doing before. Actually, it's also a good opportunity for some nice photos with Tiger's maternal grandparents, especially his Wai Gong, who doesn't usually venture out of the house a great deal.

This is actually our second time doing the photo thing in town on Christmas. We did it last year too, when Tiger was eight months old. And I must confess, it honestly doesn't feel like a whole year between these two photos.

Here's Tiger at Christmas-time last year with Wai Gong and Wai Po...

... and now in 2004.

I also got Tiger a Bob the Builder Lego set for Christmas. Bob's da Man!

Family Outings

2004-12-31T17:22:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: -
Age: -

On a tiny island like Singapore, finding a place to take the family on weekends is always a challenge.

Not that we're not homebodies - nothing beats curling up with a coffee and a good book - but I always feel a little guilty not taking Tiger out on weekends. One, because he's pretty much spent most of the weekdays cooped up at home; and two, I believe that seeing the world is the best way for him to learn.

Shopping centres are a bit of a cop-out I think, and despite the advertising hogwash, are not exactly the last word in family entertainment.

Anyway, air-conditioned comfort isn't exactly what I'd call an outing, I guess.

So we've found ourselves gravitating towards more outdoor-sy venues. One such place is the Botanic Gardens, which is a short five-minute drive away from home. We usually pick up some fast-food takeaway and skip over in the evenings for a little picnic.

There I can tuck in and read the papers, or enjoy a concert, while Tiger prowls the area in search of kids and family pets to harass.

West Coast Park, along the Ayer Rajah Expressway, is also good for a weekend jaunt. It used to be much less popular, until the powers-that-be spruced it up a good deal, adding a rather tastefully-architectured McDonald's outlet, and something like a dozen different playgrounds.

When time permits, a trip to the beach is not out of the question, although we usually shoot for Pasir Ris Beach, which is at least less congested than the one at East Coast Park. We haven't gone to the beach for quite some time though, ever since we moved out west earlier this year.

I can't wait till Tiger is a little older. Then maybe that camping trip I've been suggesting to his Mama won't be so quickly dismissed.

Cheeky!

2004-12-31T17:00:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: -
Age: -

Tiger has this one look that he flashes whenever we yell "Cheeky Face!" to him. It looks a little like this:

Lately, he's taken "Smile!" to mean the same thing as well, which I'm not sure is a good thing.

Water Baby

2004-12-31T15:12:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: August 2004
Age: 16 months

Tiger's always been a water baby of sorts.

Bath-time, for instance, usually takes around 10 minutes, but two thirds of that is basically him splashing about and repeatedly banging his rubber ducky against the water. He also thinks that jumping up and down in puddles on a rainy day is great fun.

Still, who can blame him? Apparently, babies ought to love water since they spend their first nine months in it, or so common wisdom goes.

But none of that was immediately apparent the first time we brought Tiger to the swimming pool.

His Mama and I had dutifully purchased a bunch of stuff from Toys r' Us, which we thought might help him take to swimming more quickly: a pair of water wings, an inflated vest and a nice little yellow buoy for him to sit comfortably in.

Fat lot of good those did. He protested vehemently against the vest and wasn't particularly enamoured with the rest of his toys either.

After about 15 minutes, we finally figured it out: he just wanted to splash around unencumbered, darn it.

It was plain sailing after that. He was quite happy to slush around in the wading pool and chase his water wings when they floated away, occasionally letting out a yelp of surprise when hit by a gust of cold wind or when his footing gave out.

Chicken Pox

2004-12-31T13:02:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: May 2004
Age: 1 year

Barely a week after our trip to Australia - where we had visited Tiger's paternal grandparents to celebrate his first birthday - chicken pox struck.

When we discovered that first red welt on his torso, we summarily dismissed it as another insect bite of undetermined origins. But since it didn't seem to bother Tiger too much, we were pretty content to let it be.

Over the next 48 hours though, the spots multiplied in a hurry, and only then did it dawn upon us that we had a case of chicken pox on our hands.

Our family doctor was actually quite surprised to find out that we had not opted to vaccinate Tiger earlier, as that would have prevented the pox entirely. In our defence however, both Tiger's Mama and I had always been told by well-meaning relatives and friends that it was better to just let the pox "come out" on its own, since suppressing it would simply pave the way for a more severe outbreak.

That, as the good doctor informed us, was a fallacy.

Too little too late, though. The ensuing fortnight saw Tiger battling itches and bouts of (thankfully) mild fever. Calamine lotion and fever relief medications were the order of the day, and luckily they did their job quite well.

It didn't make it any less painful to see him hidden under that coat of bulbous red spots, though.

To his credit, Tiger coped with the virus as well we could have hoped, generally playing and eating as he normally would, all but oblivious to the boils on him.

The pox finally subsided two weeks later, but I still get the chills when I look back at photos of a pox-covered Tiger.

Is it always harder for the parents, I wonder more and more these days.

Year of the Tiger

2004-12-31T11:02:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: April 2004
Age: 1 year

Actually, our little Tiger was born in the year of the goat, according to the Chinese lunar calendar.

But on this particular day, 25 April 2004, Tiger turned one.

It's a surreal thing, to celebrate your child's birthday.

While the turn of a calendar year is typically cause for reflection and introspection, a child's birthday is a reminder of all that's important in your life. Mawkish terms of sentiment usually reserved for Hallmark cards - like family, love, faith and devotion - suddenly become virtues to live by, and I am reminded of the day I held him in my arms for the first time and called him son.

Now with all that significance attached to this day, you'd think we could at least string together a proper birthday party for the little tyke. Not so.

As we discovered, doing up the list of party guests was a pretty difficult task, especially since we realised that Tiger had no real friends to speak of just yet. Our friends' kids were either much younger or much older; and in baby terms, a year or two can make a world of difference.

So we did the only thing we knew - and invited our own friends over instead.

They arrived one by one in the afternoon that day, gifts in hand and asking to see the birthday boy. Tiger, in keeping with his penchant for sleeping throughout big occasions (see the baptism account), snored his way through the better part of the day, waking up only when us adults had completed a few hearty rounds of mahjong in the living room.

We promptly rolled out his birthday cake, and managed to cajole him enough to at least pretend to blow out the lone candle.

Presents were next, and as you might imagine, that was the best part of the day for him. I like to think that he liked my gift - an odd ball-and-hammer contraption in the guise of an educational toy - best, but I'd be lying. Still, he had a delightful enough time thoroughly exploring - and tasting - each new toy or book he received.

All in all, a pretty quiet affair, I'd say.

We didn't have the streamers, balloons or funny hats, but we did have each other to celebrate with on the day. And in an age when children grow up quicker than ever, that, I think, is saying quite a bit.

Best Friends

2004-12-24T14:24:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: -
Age: -

Tiger's got three best friends.

They go by the names of Elmo, Miffy and Bob the Builder.

He got to know them in that order since he was about six months old, and since they've been inseparable since then. Actually, it's more of a one-sided affair, but don't tell Tiger that ok?

Rain or shine, Tiger's got to have his half-hour (give or take an hour or two) with them on VCD each day. Incidentally, it's also the only time he's more than willing to sit completely quiet in his high chair, gazing admiringly at the hilarious - at least to him - exploits of these characters.

Elmo is his undisputed favourite. There must something about that little red furry monster with the high-pitched voice that makes kiddies (and some adults) go ga-ga. One of Tiger's
favourite pastimes is attempting to scare his plush toy Elmo by growling at it. Still, despite Elmo's incessant whining, I have to credit him with showing Tiger the finer points of brushing his teeth and putting on his clothes.

Bob the Builder is my personal favourite of the trio. He's a contractor who'll build and mend just about anything, thanks in large part to his crew of talking excavators, cranes and cement mixers. Plus, he's got a cool, slightly Manchesterian accent that makes him quite endearing in a way.

Miffy, on the other hand, could bore the crap out of a sedated snail, I think. What Tiger sees in this gender-defying rabbit I'm not completely certain, but I reckon it's got something to do with the way the bunny teaches counting by way of repetition. And boy, is there a lot of that.

Now of course, any affection bordering on obsession for a bunch of fictional characters is slightly unhealthy, I'll grant you that much.

Still, I must confess that I have them to thank for introducing Tiger to important concepts such as friendship, kindness and good manners. Particularly since he's still at an age when other children are as much playthings to him as they are real people.

And that, I think, is saying a lot.

Walk this Way

2004-12-24T13:42:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: December 2004
Age: 8 months - 1 year

Ask any parent for a significant milestone in their toddler's life, and I guarantee you that walking will invariably figure somewhere near the top of the list.

I guess there's a certain poignancy about babies first learning to pull themselves up, and eventually learning to stand up and walk by themselves.

It's their first big step into the realm of independence. Their first foray into self-sufficiency.

Tiger first started learning to support his own weight when he was around 7 months old. It began, I think, when he realised that yelling and screaming did not always prove adequate in summoning us, and that he would have to devise his own way of escaping the confines of his crib or playpen.

(He did successfully gnaw his way through the playpen one day, we discovered, but that's another story.)

Then he moved on to furniture, railings, walls and *gasp* baby walkers.

That last one would be our fault. Tiger's Mama and mine, that is. Newbies to the whole parenting game that we were, we fell for the whole walker hype, misguidedly thinking that it would spur Tiger on to "walk like a pro in 10 days!"

Chalk up one more on my list of parenting boo-boos.

As we soon realised, all the walker did was to encourage him to paddle both legs at the same time (a bit like how your legs kick when you do the breast-stroke). Walking? I think not.

So we got rid of that pretty quickly. Good thing we got it second-hand.

The time-honoured, tried-and-tested method of slowly letting him get accustomed to his own weight still works best, I say in hindsight, newfangled walker gizmo-thingys be damned.

So we cheered him on, until he was able to potter around quite dexterously around the time he turned one.

Only thing is, he expects us to keep up with him now.

Little Drummer Boy

2004-12-24T13:15:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: -
Age: -

I think Tiger will grow up to be a drummer someday.

This first hit me when I realised that he would 'bop' to just about anything with a rhythm.

From the time he was able to sit up straight, he would start heaving his considerable bulk up and down to music. Such as when we would walk through a shopping centre, where it seems like more and more stores have taken to blaring loud music to get shoppers' attention. Or in church, when hymns are played.

What really cracks me up though, is when he clicks his tongue - in almost perfect timing - to the ticking of our car's turning indicators. It's hilarious.

His Granny, who worships the ground he walks on, apparently thinks he's quite the percussionist too. She bought him a pair of drumsticks (no, not those drumsticks) the last time we visited her in Australia. They're little kiddie ones which sound off like cymbals, snares or tom-toms (you get to choose) whenever they're struck against a hard surface.

Needless to say, Tiger took quite a shine to them, with the result that for awhile, the house was filled with all manner of attempted drum rolls, breaks and fills.

But I think the most convincing piece of evidence came when I tried to get him to strum my guitar. He would invariably insist that I turn the thing over so that he could pound his fists on the back-side of the instrument instead.

Which kinda reminds me of a joke which was quite common when I used to play in a band.

What do you call someone who hangs out with musicians?

A drummer.

UTI

2004-12-23T16:22:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: Sep 2003
Age: 5 months

Our first real health scare came when Tiger was around 5 months old.

Up until that point, he'd been a pretty trouble-free baby, aside from his colic phase and the occasional bout of cold or fever.

But quicker than we could say "An apple a day...", we found ourselves in the middle of a full-blown medical nightmare.

It all began innocuously enough, with Tiger coming down with a temperature one day. Call us nonchalant, but his Mama and I decided to try and see if we could bring the fever down ourselves, before making a trip to the doctor's. Besides, no other symptoms were apparent. But when the fever persisted, and even soared above the 39 degree mark, we decided to bring him in.

We ended up seeing a paediatrician on duty that evening, at the hospital where Tiger was born. (His regular paediatrician was off-duty that weekend.)

The doctor began to examine Tiger, pressing and poking into his tummy. Never one for being prodded and jabbed - however well-intentioned - Tiger responded with the loudest scream this side of Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween.

"Is he always like this?" the doctor asked us.

"Only with doctors," we replied in all seriousness. "He really hates doctors."

Still, the doctor decided that something must be bothering him really badly since he was yelling so loudly. He suggested that Tiger be warded for some tests.

Reluctant as we were, we assented and Tiger was assigned a room. The next few hours are a blur to me now - in part since there's a lot of it I'd rather not remember - but they essentially consisted of Tiger being subjected to an assortment of needles and drips, as well as a bag that was secured to him for urine sample collection.

All the while long, he alternately yelled, cried, sobbed and pleaded wordlessly for the better part of three hours.

And believe you me, that was when we discovered a big part what parental love is all about. How the heart simply aches and grieves as though it were about to burst. How agnoising it feels to stand helplessly by, unable to do any more than whisper consoling words and pray. And most of all, how much we wished we could take his place.

Tiger finally sobbed himself to sleep that night, although more was to come.

The next few days saw more of the same, until his urine test came back on the third day. Urinary tract infection was the diagnosis. This was not good. Little boys don't usually get UTI - which is typically caused by bacterial infection entering through the penis - cos' they're built different than girls. You've got to be extra careful when cleaning and bathing baby girls, for instance, because of this.

But for Tiger to have contracted it, the paediatrician revealed, was either due to a freak accident or worse, some structural abnormality in his urinary system, in which case he would have to undergo major surgery to rectify the problem.

We were shocked and bewildered, as though our worlds had caved in on us. Tiger was put on further medication and sent home. Some weeks later, we were instructed, we would have to undergo a second test for bacterial infection. We shuddered to think what would happen if the results came in positive.

Thank God, after days of agonising and waiting, the tests for infection came back negative. A further ultrasound scan revealed no signs of abonormality.

We were told however, that babies' organs are continuously developing, and we would have to keep monitoring Tiger for any recurrences of UTI, and send him for another ultrasound when he turns two or so to make sure.

Tiger just turns 20 months old this Christmas, and the old UTI bogeyman has thankfully not returned.

We don't know what the future holds, but we have learnt this: Each day is a gift and the following one is a bonus. To take for granted the time we have together as a family is as foolhardy as I could possibly be.

What's in a Name?

2004-12-23T11:22:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: -
Age: -

In case anyone's wondering, it's with good reason that I've adopted the "Tiger" moniker for my little one on this blog.

Actually, make that SIX good reasons:

(1) It's actually his nickname at home. His Mama and I have used it since he was about three months old.
(2) He's feisty, rambunctious and occasionally ferocious.
(3) Go ahead, ask him what a tiger sounds like. I dare you.
(4) He's quite the carnivore, although he's yet to really hunt down any prey.
(5) No. (2) above notwithstanding, he's actually petrified by the most innocuous things (ants, carpet grass, furry rugs), so we sometimes call him a "paper tiger".
(6) He's orange with black stripes all across his body.

OK, maybe not that last one.

Here he is at around 5 months, attempting his best impression of his namesake. By the way, he's the one on the right.

Dimples

2004-12-23T08:43:00.001+08:00

Tiger Log: August 2003
Age: 4 months

Something we'd noticed pretty early on were Tiger's dimples - a first in both his Mama's and my family trees, as far as we can tell.

They sit quite comfortably astride each of his very ample cheeks, deepening when he breaks out into a smile or laugh.

Which of course leads many to ask, where did he get them from?

"We bought 'em," is my usual reply.

Seriously though, it's a mystery to me as well.

In keeping with the time-honoured tradition of baby-parent identification, folks seem intent on scrutinising babies, trying to trace the exact origins of each and every facial feature.

"Wahh... he's got his daddy's eyes hor?"

"Oooh... look! His nose is small and round like his mummy's!"

Well, his dimples are a stumper then. They're entirely his, and his alone.

Asleep at the Font

2004-12-22T14:07:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: June 2003
Age: 2 months

We were a little late actually.

We had hoped to get Tiger baptised by the time he was around a month old. But between Tiger's colic-induced meltdowns and the general fatigue his Mama and I were experiencing as a result, I think we were pretty fortunate to get him to the font when we did.

Baptism is a big deal for us Catholics. Or at least it should be. It's the Big Kahuna in a way, 'cos it paves the way for the rest of the sacraments (like Reconciliation, Confirmation, Holy Communion etc..). So you can understand why we were pretty anxious about it all.

Now I don't mean to make short shrift of this, but suffice to say, Tiger basically slept through his entire baptism.

This, from someone who usually couldn't put two winks together at the best of times. Go figure.

He just snoozed away contentedly, with nary a stir, blissfully oblivious to the goings-on around him.

His siesta continued uninterrupted even when his name was called out over the microphone. Even when several others in his baptismal cohort were screeching loudly in protest. Even when Fr. Bryan anointed him with the baptismal oil. Even when water was poured over his head.

I don't know if he was caught up in some sweet dream about being trapped between two milk-engorged mammaries or if he was just tired out, but I think I was kind of relieved. I mean, at least he wasn't bawling his lungs out or anything.

The entourage of friends and family that we had in tow on the day were quite amused by Tiger's hibernation stunt, and from that point on, promptly dismissed all our complaints hitherto about how difficult it was to get him to sleep most times.

Tiger eventually awoke from his torpor after the rites were completed, wondering what in the world he was doing at church in the middle of a lazy Saturday afternoon, and why he was decked out in a starchy all-white number with a cross down the middle.

The photo below is one that I really like.

It's of Tiger and his Granny (my mum), who as you can probably infer, thinks he's simply divine.

Every Mother's (and Father's) Nightmare

2004-12-22T08:43:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: May-July 2003
Age: 1-3 months

There is one word that never fails to send every single hair on the nape of my neck standing bolt-upright each time I hear it.

Colic.

In Tiger's case, it was the single greatest source of grief for his Mama and I during those first few turbulent months.

For the uninitiated, colic is a condition which seems to afflict some newborns, and which for reasons yet undetermined, causes them to wail like a spurned banshee for hours on end. (For the record, Tiger once managed to cry for nearly 6 hours at a stretch, ceasing only when he'd yelled himself hoarse.)

Given the somewhat unclear causes of colic ('wind' in the tummy, not enough/too much sleep, over-stimulation, bad luck, etc.) , the remedies prescribed are predictably arcane.

Depending on who you speak to, the solutions can range from the medicinal (e.g. gripewater, "ru yi oil"), to the therapeutic (e.g. burping, soft music), to the plain bizarre (e.g. white noise from a vacuum cleaner, radio static).

As you can imagine, none of these sagely prescriptions worked one iota for us (except maybe for the last one, believe it or not).

We were left wondering forlornly (and somewhat angrily): "why us?" each time we were summoned to his side by another outburst of colicky cries.

Sleep patterns - both ours and his - were thrown out the window. As interrupted as his sleep was - never more than an hour and a half each time - Tiger's mama and I inevitably suffered from the knock-on effects.

Hey, put two sleep-deprived people together for any length of time, and they're bound to get testy.

One night, though, it really hit the fan.

After having been put through the ringer for two months or so, I was ready to throw in the towel. When Tiger roused us from our slumber for the umpteenth time, I stormed over to pick him up from his crib.

"You stupid little @#$@," I muttered, only half-jokingly, before dumping Tiger down on our bed rather unceremoniously and requesting (ok, demanding) that his Mama take over.

She did.

I'm happy to report though, that Tiger's colicky tendencies faded as abruptly as they'd appeared, when he was about three months old. Oh sure, he'd still have his moments, but we were mighty glad to leave the worst behind us.

Oh, and Tiger, if you should ever read this when you get older, Papa was just using a term of affection.

Honestly.

First Night

2004-12-21T18:35:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: 29 April 2003
Age: 4 Days

Up until this time, Tiger's mama and I had been mercifully spared the hands-on experience of tending to a newborn baby through the night.

Oh sure, we'd see Tiger regularly during our 4-day post-natal stay at the hospital, when the nurses would dutifully wheel him to us for his regular breastfeeding sessions. Once that was done though, it was back to the infant room with the rest of his ruddy-faced contemporaries.

No fuss, no muss.

And every hour or so, we'd pop over to peer through the window, trying to pick him out and coo at him from afar.

Such bliss, we thought. "Hey, this baby business ain't so bad after all."

Ah, how wrong we were.

Our first night home with Tiger, we learn the hard way the first lesson of Parenting 101: "Do it quick, and don't lift the legs up too high."

After having been snugly swaddled and rocked into slumber late that evening - it only takes us two hours or so - Tiger awakes near midnight, protesting loudly in discomfort.

No worries. I'm prepared, or so I think.

Like a pro, I leap out of bed and am by his side in a single bound.

What's wrong? Did we swaddle him a little too zealously? Is he hungry? Just restless, perhaps?

Ah, he's soiled himself.

My first chance at diaper-changing then: the rite of initiation for all newbie parents.

I decide to take this slowly and calmly, this being my first time and all.

Off with his dirty diaper ("shh, there there..."), chuck it aside ("hush, baby..."), up high with his feet ("don't cry, don't cry..."), and wipe him up where it matters, ("shh...") and ...

"Yikes!"

I'm assaulted by a sudden jet of warm liquid, which I discern quickly enough is pee.

Sputtering, I manage a wry smile as I hold his legs up again for a second round with the baby-wipes.

Splat!

Looks like Tiger isn't done with his barrage yet, and I'm quite certain that this time around, it isn't pee. The familiar stench confirms my fears.

Lesson learnt, the remainder of the diaper change is done in 10 seconds flat, and I get to the business of cleaning up the mess on my arms and face.

Tiger's mama is suitably amused by the whole affair.

Note to self: remember to laugh mercilessly if something similar ever happens to her.

Let's Start at the Beginning...

2004-12-21T17:00:00.000+08:00

Tiger Log: 25 April 2003
Age: Newborn

So there he is, this bloody tangle of tiny arms, legs and torso, flailing about wildly and obviously in need of some aid.

And if that isn't apparent enough, his staccato yelps make it abundantly clear that attention is required.

But I find myself standing there transfixed and motionless, my jaw on the floor.

"Some father you are", I think to myself.

As it turns out though, I'm not needed.

With practiced familiarity, the nurses sweep the little tyke up into a blanket and swaddle him tightly.

One of the ladies in white leans over and politely requests that I "please wait outside with the baby, while we clean up here". With that, she proceeds to wheel the trolley out of the room. An exhausted nod of approval from Tiger's Mum signals that I should follow.

Once outside, I kneel down and peer at him.

"This is my son", I think to myself.

My son.

I wish I could remember each and every detail of that first encounter with my own flesh and blood, but I am positive that the surrealness of the moment has clouded my memory.

My only positive recollection from those few brief minutes in that hospital aisle is of my first words to him.

"My son, it's me. Your Papa.

You're my greatest gift, and I will always be there for you."

It's a promise I'm still trying my darndest to live up to each day.