I know Caitlin has been going to primary school this year, and Caleb, being going-on-4, is developing fast.

But it still “hits” me when I speak to them, or overhear them during skype; how much they have “grown”.

While speaking to Caitlin, she slips in words and/or translations of things I say, or shows me art-craft works that she has obviously learned from school. Words or art stuff that I have not taught her, concepts and skills that she has obviously picked up being a kid in school.

Caleb’s speech is more cohesive now: longer sentences, not-so-simple-anymore requests and demands. I am also told of stories of what he’s been up to, and his reactions and responses.

Missing all these… Can’t wait for them to join me soon.

During our first Skype session after this same recent visit to Melbourne / seeing me after 5 months of my being here; matter of factly, she says to me “Daddee, everytime I think of you I feel like crying..” And moves on to another topic.

This one was from last year (late 2010):
Still within earshot when the restaurant staff walked past us, Caitlin asked: “Daddee, is that a boy or a girl?”

Yikes..

Caitlin’s English has been pretty good all her almost-7-years life. Thanks mostly to us speaking to her with it, TV and the kiddie movies, and also to an extent the podcasts and online games she plays (no, not those you are thinking- these are just the simple Disney ones / online-extensions of the TV-channel programs).

So when she was here in Melbourne and whenever we went out, I’d try and get her to speak to some people- such as asking for directions, ordering food, etc.

She was apprehensive.

I guess she is aware that she is in another country, in a place where English is generally the first language of the locals.

As a parent I have kinda been conscious to not highlight too much to my kids the difference between people. Sure, in her studies they are already taught the differences between races- Yes, seriously. But I guess Grandma has also been “prepping” her for her journey here, that perhaps she may not be able to understand the Aussie accent, and maybe even that she should learn to speak proper English.

I may be wrong, but I think if Grandma had in fact been doing this, it may have had an adverse effect- the apprehension in Caitlin now.

She clearly did not want to interact. Sure she may not have been as brave in KL but I think she was especially apprehensive here. At one time we were in a local hypermart store and she wanted to check out some toys. I asked her to ask the staff where the toy section is. She blatantly did not want to try. She even offered me: “I don’t understand what they are talking about!”

Back home after shopping, in trying to ease her worries, I thought of this: Since their arrival I had left the TV on ABC’s kids channel. Here they air as much local content as possible. I asked her a simple question: “Do you know and understand what the real people (and sometimes the animated characters) are saying?”

Her answer was a quick and simple Yes.

“So then who said you don’t understand Australian English?”

Yes, the long awaited reunion with them, since being away for so long.

And how much, and also how little, things have changed.

The good news/change is that:

• Caitlin has some school homework with her. She came to me for help like she’s been doing this for years;
• Caitlin has learned a lot; she can read and comprehend a lot better now, knows quite a bit of her multiplication tables;
• Caleb is a lot more cohesive now, much expanded vocabulary and also more expressive;
• They do seem to get along better, share stuff, starting to signs of relating to each other.

Now the “bad” news:

• They are still as cheeky as ever!
• But with age, comes more sophisticated cheekiness!

It’s the first time for both of them to experience an Australian winter (but it’s technically still not the coldest time yet) but they seem to take this on quite well. Sure they complain about first observations like COLD TOILET SEATS and cold winds, but generally they seem to enjoy their time here

They will be leaving for home this weekend, but at least I got to see them, hug them, and note these growing characteristics…

Oh, and Hot Mummee still looks, well, hawt

Tina Fey’s prayer for her daughter

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

Source: Bossypants

There was once an event at Grandma’s church. I think Grandma had to volunteer at this event, and Caitlin, her uncle and I were left in the hall waiting for her to join us. It was a rather big crowd there too. Caitlin must have been only about 3 or younger then. I think she hadn’t even started pre-school yet then.

We were seated on a long flowerbox or something. Soon after an older girl, perhaps 5 years old, came to the flowerbox near us. She took out a colouring book and colour pencils from her backpack and started colouring it. Caitlin, being always curious of other kids at that age, was watching this older girl. The girl knew it, and I guess she was also showing off her wares.

Caitlin started getting bored, and we weren’t prepared for this long wait- could have brought some toy or something to occupy her (I didn’t have an iPhone of games then either). So I went to the car to retrieve my small notepad and a pen; thought to teach her how to master holding a pen or even start writing. I really did not have anything for her.

She started doodling in it. Up and down strokes. It was quite pathetic really, given the situation we were in at the hall bored out of our minds, and the girl near us enjoying herself in full view of Caitlin, with her up-down strokes of blue ink in a small pocket-shirt sized lined notepad.

“That’s not nice” said the girl about Caitlin’s doodling. Caitlin was stumped, perhaps even hurt. For a 3 year old she didn’t know how to react. She just looked at me.

I guess this was also my first incident of someone else teasing my child, even if it’s verbal.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I am 5 years old”, she said, without looking up from her colouring.

“Well, my daughter is only 3, and she can already hold a pencil properly. Could you do that when you were 3 years old?”

She didn’t answer me.

“No, I didn’t think you could.”

Caitlin is of a certain intellect already. We “connect” as we talk about stuff- and we can do that just by sitting down, in the car, at the table, and lately, over the internet on Skype. In fact with this latest medium, we also type messages to each other whilst I coach her on spelling them

Caleb however, is not at that level of intellect yet. We don’t “talk” per se- we play together. Though he understands stuff that is being said to him, he is still distracted by physical, tangible, more touch-sensory perception of the world and people around him than about to sit down and talk.

And so, he doesn’t miss me, not as much as his jie-jie does.

This was evident tonight. I got a message on my iPhone’s chat program from Caitlin, asking me to get on Skype to videochat, peppered with emoticons that she has recently taken to giggle at

And so we did, like usual, hearing and seeing each other on screen.

While talking to Caitlin and Hot Mummee for a while I saw Caleb in the background of the video chat. HM asked him to come talk to Daddee.

He didn’t want to.

I don’t blame him. There is no fun, at his level of intellect, to talk to Daddee in a window in the computer screen. There is no play involved like how it was with physical-Daddee; like how I’d play with his toys with him, kick the ball around with him, goof around with him.

I have said before that he will grow to not know his Daddee if we don’t hurry along our plans. This is perhaps the first step down that path.

I don’t have much time left.

Games, or apps for that matter, usually get updated by the developers. Either to add in new features, bug fixes, to be more updated; in particular with games, new scenes or characters would be added. With the zoo game that Caitlin plays, I have seen new animals and rangers being added when they are updated.

So now that I am away from home I have removed most of the games that were on the iPhone. For that matter I have also removed some of the security features- there were a few times when Caleb had unintentionally deleted my apps and info; he didn’t know better, of course.

So now when I check for updates of my apps, some of these installed games would indicate that there are updates available.

I don’t update them now.

And I kinda feel guilty, and sad.

Guilty because, even though they are games- I only install educational games or at least non-violent games; they do teach something to the kids. Hand-eye coordination, math games, basic strategies (the zoo management game), or simply interacting with “tools” that will become even bigger parts of their adult lives compared to us now. Guilty because I have taken away this opportunity/”toy” away from them.

And sad. I miss them.

Back in the days when I was away from home during overseas studies, we would rely solely on this almost A4-sized paper that was folded 3 times over and licked to seal.

Then when I was at uni, I was astonished that this thing called electronic mail that lecturers used to share notes, was able to go beyond the campus’ gateway and into my sister’s work inbox in Singapore.

Of course in between there was phone calls to chat, usually kept very short because of the costs of the call.

Texting was only available after my graduation and returning to Malaysia, and ICQ much later after that.

These days, we have this thing called Skype and Yahoo messenger where not only could we chat over voice, we could also see each other; and if this Daddee has his way (soon?), maybe this thing called Facetime as well

So anyway, Daddee is away from home. Caitlin knew full well days before my departure what the implications are; something I will come back to another time. But after almost a week away and video-chatting nearly everyday, I sincerely hope the kids are coping with my absence. They are staying with their grandparents who, with all due respect, are not as energetic as I am insofar as bringing them out to the parks, goofing around with them outside or on the floor, role playing with their toys, taking them for a swim.

In the video-chats Caitlin does save her comments for the day to share them with me. She would, albeit only very short and unfocused, share with me some thoughts or activities, or questions from something from her day- which I thought is nice. But she would naturally also ask when we’d be together again… In all, I still think that this is better than nothing at all, or at least what it used to be with me. Then again this is a 6 year old who can’t write well yet to correspond any other way.

Caleb would come on too sometimes, but most times he is more fascinated with seeing himself on the monitor and make faces just to see what it looked like on screen. He knows I am there, and we exchange greetings too, but that is really all we- I, can do for him at this stage.

So, I think they are coping okay for now; I wouldn’t say they are coping “well”.

At least from my perspective…

Hope you enjoy this bit of a rant. It is to do with my well-being, especially in the context of having (enough?) energy as a father chasing around demanding 6- and 3-year olds

I’m into social media and twitter, and I was whining about my bad knee, and how I was putting on the pounds with the lack of (conventional) exercise. This is my left knee, which I damaged years ago when I went back to the gym after some time off and went straight for the same weight I used before, for squatting. Dumbass. I should have, and do know better. That’s how I had stayed injury free, till then.

Either that or it was the time when I curled my leg to pull myself closer to the office desk on the wheeled-chair, and my knee popped.

Either way, it hurts like hell now at the point of the common angle of climbing up a stair- 45 degrees from straight; which means I can’t play tennis anymore (since one has to be bent-kneed to be ready to pounce towards where the ball is going).

So, a mutual friend on twitter read the whine. She happens to be a qualified trainer, just returning from Vegas then. “Why not come give Bikram yoga a try?”

My mum used to teach yoga to her friends at home, in the early 80′s. She had started practising at home in the late 70′s when my older brother bought her a book titled “Yoga for health”. Me being the youngest and already starting high school, she had more time and thought to teach it. I think she was proud of how many had commented how young she looks for her age; she’s always attributed it to yoga. Whenever she was teaching upstairs I’d be downstairs watching either The A-team, Airwolf or MacGyver, to give you an idea when this was.

Whenever she was practising, I’d use to join her. Not for all the poses, only what I thought was challenging for someone my age then. The Bat was one I would always try- where one sits on the floor with legs straight and wide open, and chin to the floor, finger grabbing the toes. If I recall, the advanced version would involve proceeding to a complete side-split, stomach on the floor and roll forward and end up on the stomach with legs behind and flat on the floor.

Years after that whilst growing up, I’d still do that for fun- on the floor while watching TV, or reading the newspapers. I always felt better after a stretch. It also helped with the karate and kung-fu classes I would take short years after that. Boarding school bullies who try to challenge me would think twice when I “show off” warming up for the “duel”. Okay- news about giving the karate instructor a bloody nose during sparring also helped.

Since those years ago, I took up the usual sports like tennis and gym, etc. Never at all giving “real” complete yoga classes any thought. I was in all ways, a typical bloke.

So I accepted this invitation to give Bikram class a try this past April. I was not happy with my weight and, truthfully, my image, my puffy face. I could only wear my 2 largest pants in my wardrobe. I had also just done a medical and my cholesterol levels were frightening.

At the first class, I could do most of the stretch-related poses, but no way till today could I keep my endurance up for all the pose-holding. In May there was a 3 week work-related travel away from home. Being the first time in the US I tried mostly all of the foods presented to the delegation and also US-sized fast food. Upon returning I was even more motivated.

I have been trying to go 3 times a week since then. Most times when I couldn’t was due to my daughter’s whining- due to my fulltime job I could only go after work, which means no time for her/them and our trips to the playground, dinners together, or simply just hanging out. During periods of lull in the office, I have gone for the early morning classes to improvise. I have been lucky with this arrangement this year.

Around July or August during a family dinner my older sister, whom I don’t see regularly, commented that I have lost weight “and look better this way”. Her teenage daughters and other nieces, being something of activity-junkies themselves, were asking which studio I attend. I had even brought one of them along once for her to try. And as expected, it is too slow for her. Though she could do everything and had enjoyed it, she is back to her usual bouldering and cheer-leading activities; “for now”, this late-teenager added.

So, I’m still attending as regularly as I can. I do feel more energetic, noticeably able to keep up with the kids. I am getting back some definition, an image which I wasn’t so conscious anymore at our recent family trip to a water park. I am sure the wife has also had some secret thoughts though she hasn’t shared much (!) but I do know she is happy for me too.

These days I can chomp down the nieces-made cheesecakes and rebut the wife when she warns that I would put on weight. “Don’t worry, I now know the formula!”

Thanks to Bikram instructor Mei Ng, http://twitter.com/MeiNg, for the invitation

After all, it is about time she learns how to manage her own time and implications of otherwise. I have already gotten her a desk clock which she out-of-blue asked for a few weeks ago, which I gladly did. I think she saw it in some tv show and thought it’d be cool (from a 6 year old’s perspective of “cool”) to also have one of her own.

She was quite specific about it too. She insisted that it had to “be pink, have hands, and also ears”. I wasn’t sure if she had seen it in a cartoon and thus unlikely to exist in real life. So I had drawn it to be sure we had the same understanding.

We did.

It’s not exactly a very precise alarm clock; it does ring, plus/minus 20 minutes either way of the alarm setting hand! I also couldn’t find one with all the numbers of the clock, for a clock that (smallish) size.

But back to the topic at hand.

Now that she is “orientating” for standard 1, a timely opportunity for her to start getting into some kinda independence in terms of getting things done in time, and being on time.

So I didn’t disagree with Grandma getting her a wrist watch.

It is just that if it were me; and I did think it would be me, that I would get her one with hands. Admittedly we didn’t consult each other on this purchase, or even the intention of the purchase.

She’s finished pre-school, started primary school orientation, dropped like 4 (or 5?) milk teeth already with 2 adult bottom teeth in place, outgrown new-ish jeans that we had only bought about 6 months ago, the same with shoes, starting to tell funny jokes and can laugh at herself now instead of being too worried about being laughed at.

About 3 weeks ago, I had told it to her face “NO MORE BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR YOU”. She had told a lie, and in the process got her brother into deep trouble. We had just come back from her school friend’s party at one of the kids’ gyms, and had almost put down a deposit for her’s.

I was very much looking forward to this good-time with and for her. She was really looking forward to having her current school friends as well as last year’s friends (who are now in standard 1, different school) at the party, to play with and catch up with them- she is still off-and-on telling me she misses one or two of them. However, at the abovementioned party I didn’t see them doing alot of catching up though…

I am hoping that this punishment is sticking to her head. So far I think she remembers; because she has been “compromising” by asking if we could still have some kinda party at home.

We will; and I had wanted to anyway. My mum just called saying we’ll do something this weekend See, it is also Caitlin’s 2 aunties’ birthdays too; 3 consecutive days for the girls (my sister, and my sister-inlaw).

Perhaps we will do something tomorrow itself first. Despite all that I would like to do for my kids, I am still feeling that it’s not enough for their childhood memories…

On Saturday when Caitlin and I were done and leaving for the day, I had made sure again that she knew where to queue upon reaching the school on Monday, and where to wait for only a set list of people to follow home.*

This morning, I had thought to myself that I should at least walk her into the assembly area again, just for both(?) our peace of mind. Gladly the rain had stopped, and that I had decided to drop off Caleb first before heading to the school, with plenty of time to spare.

On a personal level I had wanted to gauge the time taken for everything for Caitlin to be in school on time. Chinese schools, at least in my time, are quite unforgiving when it comes to punctuality; and rightly so. The last thing I want is to be the cause for their lateness- not setting a good example and at the same time being cause of their likely punishment.

We got to the school area around 8:30am, with classes scheduled to start at 9am. After finding a spot to park (eager parents around too!) we finally reached the gate at 8:35am. I asked if Caitlin was okay to walk in alone from here; half hoping that she would still “need” me to come along. OKAY I’M A SOFTIE. She didn’t give me a straight answer, but kept on walking. Part of me was thinking perhaps she didn’t “need” me, either cos she truly was okay, or that she was already embarrassed by her dad at 6! She did after all quite suddenly ask for the routine before-school hug before even reaching the gates.

So I tailed her in towards the assembly area after all, just to be sure, with the usual never-boring side-to-side ponytail swing. At a 90 degree bend, she saw me, smiled, and waited for me to catch up.

I tried to deflect, asking if she knew where to go. She did. Made some small talk along the way. Upon reaching the assembly area, there was already a small crowd. I stood back letting her ahead to join the class-line. I gestured Can I go now?, she gestured back Wait.

Okay, she needs me

Soon, her boy-friend shows up, and they were clowning around already whilst still remaining in line. Then the school bell rings; quite a loud one too by the way- made Caitlin and I slightly-cringe; and the same teacher appeared on stage and greeted the kids, already starting to inculcate the usual manners of lao-shi-zao-an.

The teacher then says to the parents that from tomorrow onwards, “It would appreciated if the parents do not come into the assembly area (or the school at all, for that matter) and just to let the kids queue themselves”; at which time, to my surprise, Caitlin waves goodbye to me.

I nodded, smiled, and waved as I walked away, making sure she at least sees my hand above the heads- that she knows I was indeed leaving.

But as you know, I still hadn’t I just wanted to watch her some more, for whatever reason you want!

Soon though, the respective class teachers came to bring the lines of kids to their classrooms, and off went the ponytail in tow.

Queue before class, and parents!

I think she is well and truly settling in.

* This is after all, the first of such street-smartness that kids ought to know/learn about. In this world where it is no longer safe to be outside, either cos of baddies or simply cos there are just a lot more cars on the road now. I used to cycle around our neighbourhood, unaccompanied, without much worries from anyone.

It is a little pity that immediately after Caitlin’s preschool ends that her enrolled primary school starts their “extra” classes.

I thought it was rather funny when I read the parent-teacher-linked newsletter months ago saying that it has been their experience that a lot of new school children who start standard 1 in Chinese schools would have trouble understanding everything being in Mandarin; that they are all too fluent in English instead. In my days, the “problem” was that everyone spoke too much Cantonese instead of the mandatory on-campus language of Mandarin. Then again this was already the case with my nieces and nephews. Had heard stories about nieces quickly finding new friends based hearing English being spoken nearby.

Pity: That as her preschool ends (like all other schools) this school had scheduled an orientation-like day on the next day, Saturday. This was also kinda fun for Caitlin to be all decked out in full primary school gear. I am glad she was finding this more exciting/nervous than with the feeling of dread. I just hope this euphoria lasts through the whole 3 weeks following this, and into school proper too.

These classes are designed for the newbies to get acquainted with Mandarin by the time the school terms starts properly in January 2011. Secretly, I am so glad that we had sent Caitlin to at least 2 years of Mandarin medium in preschool. Though she is not altogether that fluent, she more than gets by.

This was witnessed early on the Saturday. Upon finding out which class she belongs, we asked her to wait by the respective sign waiting for 9am to come by. In the meantime, as more parents and kids arrive and get into their own lines, Grandma and I sorted out the books and other administrative matters. At 9am, one of the teachers came on stage to make some instructive announcements, for the day; as well as those made by her class teacher later on inside her classroom. Caitlin understood what she had to do.

There were still some more-than-teary eyed kids in the midst. And, as even with adult groups, there were also some clowns

And again, it was good to see her self-confidence. When the teacher was checking if all students knew which class they belonged by asking them to raise their hands based on “Who’s in class ABC/DEF?” She had her hand to ear ready to stick ‘em up high upon her class name being announced. Very seldom did she have to look out for me whilst in line, and when the line started moving towards her classroom, for the first time, in this new environment.

The school designed these classes quite well in some extent. It is actually quite good that by the time school-proper starts, she and her peers would know what to do in terms of waiting areas before and after school, where everything is, had already made friends, and ready to get stuck into the syllabus.

This, is Chinese school. Regimented, disciplined, let’s-get-stuck-into-the-books-ness.

What I didn’t think they had thought through was that since there would be a lot of mainly newbie-parents, that most would not know the layout of the school and what to do once we got there. Though they had stations to sell the text books and last-minute school uniforms, with the former they should have already set aside packs of these, since all the new kids would be requiring the same books. There were already queues by 8:20am when we go there and was still there after noon when the classes ended.

I had to duck out sending Grandma home, and recess was nearly over when I got back to the school. I was half worried I’d not find her in the big campus before they had to be back in class. Walked past the canteen to her classroom and she wasn’t there, checked her bag and at least knew that she knew to bring her sandwich along for a snack. Walked back to the canteen and glad to spot her from afar. Caitlin had already quickly made a boy-friend. I suspect it was ‘cos he speaks English

Then again I would think that those who are (whose parents think) already fluent in Mandarin probably don’t need these prepatory classes.

Monday, is when her 3-weeks begins. I have a nagging suspicion that the school is using this time to evaluate them to then properly assign them to different classes based on the different levels.

And as with tradition with her school, the annual concert is also the graduation ceremony for the Pre-3 level; one that is for those turning 6, those who then move on to start Primary or Standard 1 next year.

*GULP*. But we’ll come to that at a later date; she starts Standard 1 in January 2011.

The concert went well. Caitlin’s class had 2 performances- one to kick off the concert, another towards the end. The kick-off was akin to cheerleading, where they did a series of tumbles and mini-pyramids. Yup, even I was impressed with the little bodies supporting other bodies. Mind you they probably chose her to be a “pillar” cos of her slight chubbiness.. more stability?

It was at this performance that during one of the tumbles, Caitlin’s shoe came off! This is a new pair, you know them white ones you wear to school. The school insisted upon it, which in hindsight wasn’t an unfair “demand” considering all these kids ought to already have a pair soon for Standard 1 next year. But more importantly, I guess, was that they all looked very neat on stage in full uniform(ity).

On the shoe coming off, todate (some 2 weeks after already, after I have also already made DVD copies to watch) we still talk about that episode.

We had praised her for her rather quick thinking in spite of possibly experiencing stage-fright at the time. As evidenced while watching the DVD afterwards, she had commented that after putting the shoe back on and getting back in line, she had thought to adjust the shoe’s straps, as well as that of the other shoe. She didn’t panic when it came off, completed her tumble, slipped it back on, got off the mat and into line, and then only adjusted her shoes. There were other performers who froze on stage, by just being on stage.

But the “highlight” of this incident is that somewhere along the way, our efforts to get her to not be so ashamed of mistakes and to laugh it off, has paid off- at least for this incident. Instead of mulling over this mishap and “don’t laugh at me!”, she laughed at herself

“Look look LOOK!” she would tell whomever may be watching the first time, or even the 50th time, “See my shoe come off?? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! So funny right?”

My baby is all grown up..

As you can see, them shoes are indeed rather big! But they grow so fast….

And as you can also see, her previous post’s injury is now all gone.