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

I have studied, lived and worked in Australia before. I grew up in Malaysia, and spent my developing late-teen years here.

In individualistic ways, I am a minority. Having obtained secondary and tertiary education here and having worked on both shores put me a unique position- of outlook, experience, cultural and language backgrounds. These are perhaps the qualities that past immigration policies stressed on when they look at multicultural policies and also during attempts to address the skills shortage and its ageing population, in the competitive (now comparative?) global markets.

But I am not getting into politics here.

I can therefore speak a few languages and Chinese dialects as a result- I always tell people that one of the “given” advantages of an ethnic Chinese growing up in an Asian city is that one would automatically pick up at least one dialect. In KL it is the widely spoken Cantonese, Penang would be the local flavour of Hokkien, Malacca would be Mandarin, etc., without actually needing to attend a vernacular school (but which I did- thanks mum In Singapore ethnic kids are required to also take on their respective mother-tongue as a language subject, on top of English.

But as you have rightly guessed, I am now wondering what my children will be like when they are growing up here, eventually.

In a lot of ways, I don’t want them to be “typical”. Not using myself as a model, I do wish for them to be upstanding unique citizens. I know all parents want these for their kids too, but if you take me and HM in this context- we are different in the local context; and I am looking at this in an optimistic light.

But what about the kids? They are still young, and will still be when they move here and be just another “product” of the local system.

Of course, this is almost-literally two sides of the same coin: They too would be a product of that system over there.

So then we come back to the original question: Am I doing the right thing for the kids? Am I doing this for selfish reasons of my own preference for wanting to live here, and thus “dragging” them along without the maturity and knowledge to offer their own opinions and preference too?

At this stage I can only offer that what will shape them to be un-typical would be our methods and values in raising them in the local environment. Yes I am generalising here, but I would wonder how many (“young”? parents out there have the kinds of background that HM and I have? A few, but not many, I would think.

And if I sound arrogant, I am not. I am looking out for my kids given what tools I have for this job.

And you thought Hmm I think my kid will like it too.

So you buy it. You bring it home to your kid(s). You give it to them. They go “WAAaah! Thank you Daddee” and proceed to play with it not the way you’d like it to be!

I have had toys, stationaries, cards, even my own toys, not played with “properly” (“properly” in this context is of course relative. What’s a little crashing of the remote helicopter, dirtying of a pair of perfectly white shoes, pressing too hard of the new colour pencils, or even creasing of a nicely made origami??)

I have come to accept that, however much you like the item yourself, and thought your kids might like it too, you have to “surrender” to the fact that they may not think the items is as great as you do, and not cherish or look after it as well as you might yourself!

I have seen the gifts that my parents bring for them after their trip overseas. My mum has bought Caitlin kiddie handbags before. Not that Caitlin trashes them- she does use them and store things in them and carry them around. But after a while, new broom sweeps clean, something new and better comes along and she forgets about this new item.

After giving this some thought, I should make it a point to highlight to them the effort that people have taken, to pick out the gift after giving the kids some consideration (that people are thoughtful of them), the money involved in buying it, and the whole idea of not wasting things.

.. Cos I have just bought them something too

Especially for Caitlin, she will have to readjust to another new school, after having completed the last 3 years in pre-school to start primary schooling this past January- at a new school, new friends, new syllabus- new everything. When she comes, she will be the new kid in an environment where her peers are no longer unfamiliar like newbies anymore.

I just hope that that will be the only thing she will have to cope with.

I recall during my first year in boarding school in Australia, albeit I was already 15; there was a senior who was, for some reason, watering the lawn outside the dorm. I was walking in his direction to go in. He thought it was funny to raise and aim the hose at me. All I could do was shout “STOP IT”. Through the spray I think I saw him laughing. It didn’t last long- he decided to stop. I didn’t know what to do, could do. I just continued on my way.

There was another time when a girl-classmate did the slanty-eyed thing on her temples and thought it was funny uttering “Look I can’t see through my eyes” to the other schoolmates; who didn’t think it was funny. I Just ignored her. I think she got expelled- she was of that character anyway.

Incidentally, a year after that, a genuine friend actually asked me how I really do see through these eyes! I appreciated his honesty, but I guess he needed a(nother) lesson in eye physiology and the physics of light I don’t think I have small eyes anyway!

So when my kids come, I just hope that adjusting to the new school will be all they need to worry about. I would tend to think that between my time in the mid-80′s to now, kids today are more “multi-cultured” and that if any bullying it wouldn’t be race-based.

That they would only need to find out things that are idiosyncratic to that school. Hmm I used a big word correctly.

It’s quite cool that local schools are starting programs such as this. This article reminded me of what Annie Fox has been writing about bullying. We are not affiliated; I follow her on twitter because she talks about parenting on a professional basis.

I think programs like this is also double-edged in that they probably make a leader out of the older child. The whole “taking care of the new/weak(?)”

Just saying.

I hadn’t watched it before, and it was already running when I got out of the shower. SPOILER WARNING: I am going to talk about the ending of the movie below.

I have kinda always had a dog in my life. When my older brother did well in his mid-high school exams, our dad honoured his promise of a reward with an Alsation pup. I would have been around 8 then.

He was a great dog. I gotta admit we weren’t the most “mature” in our methods of disciplining him, but we did give him a home, played with him, trained him. In return he was obedient and loyal. The only time he wasn’t obedient was when he needed to satisfy urges to run out of the house compound, and needed lots of coaxing to come home. I believe there was even once when he went out without our knowledge, and was found waiting outside our gate; presumably all satisfied with his outing and thought it was time to go home

He was eventually put down. He was about 13 years old, which means he would have been 90 dog-years old. He was just too weak physically as well as with his immunity, and started to develop some skin and ear problems.

It was my brother and I who brought him to the vet. We weren’t strangers to the vet; been taking him there for similar problems already. The vet had told us off a few times of “neglect”, but he also knew that dogs of this breed would be hard to maintain in the tropical climate.

That last visit, when we brought him in, the vet’s tone changed when we agreed that perhaps it was time.

Dog lovers all in the room.

The scene in Marley and Me was very similar. My brother and I just held Alley as he slowly slipped away. I recall I was patting him, uttering “it’s okay” quietly. Stroking his still fluffy mane, comforting him. He had never liked the vet or the clinic, and would put up a fight when the vet came near. He was putting up a fight again when the vet gave the dose, but the fight slowly slipped away too. I hoped he heard my last words too.

The car ride home with my brother was just silence.

I am writing this because of an immediately earlier scene in the movie.

The kids in the movie was saying goodbye to Marley at home, just before he was taken to the vet; when everyone kinda already knew he wouldn’t be returning.

I am writing this because where I am now (alone away from home in a friend’s house) they have a dog; probably not that much smaller than Marley. Harley is a black dog, similar line of the labradors. My friends got him from a pound when he would have been about around 2 years old. They are not sure of his breed either.

In watching that goodbye-at-home scene, I found myself wondering what it would be like if my own family had a dog. The kids would be about the same ages even though I only have two. I believe the kids would grow to love the dog like I did Alley, and would have assumed the dog to (almost) be part of the family. And, how they would react when the dog was dying.

Or how to handle impending death.

This same older brother of mine had/have other dogs since Alley. Shadow, a doberman (by choice due to a shorter coat!) was hit by a car a few years ago, and had to be put down too. Shadow was in his prime; a champion-of-the-class dog who was also of very good temperament. I had followed my older brother to a few of their obedient classes, and had watched him graduate as champ of the class. I recall I was at my inlaws’ having dinner, and broke down when my brother called to tell me the news.

His kids were pretty distraught too.

They now have another doberman, Kaiser, and a beagle Yoshi. Similarly I had followed Kaiser to dog classes; and rest assured we now know how to handle dogs “maturely”, so Kaiser also responds to my calls. My kids see how friendly I am with the dogs, and vice versa. If it weren’t for Hot Mummee around, I would let the kids interact more than just touch their noses. Caleb is the braver of my two kids, venturing to stroke the big black menacing looking dog.

I don’t know if I will eventually also have a dog in my family. I know I wouldn’t let him into the house, but at least whether I’d have one. I know the kids would be inclined to one, just a matter of whether HM would also be okay with it.

Nah, she won’t.

Kaiser the 2nd champion doberman

Yoshi the not-so-trained yapper!

Photos taken from my brother’s collection.

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.

Last night on a quick visit for some fresh milk I thought that a pack of Ribena sweets was okay for her. It was in a shiny packaging anyway; she didn’t miss it either. If the packaging is to be trusted it does contain vitamin C after all (or am I a marketers sucker-dream come true?)

So this morning on the way out to school and grandma’s respectively I was helping make sure that she does bring it along to school. Since the pack of 20 itself is rather large and didn’t quite fit into Caitlin’s uniform pocket, she passed it to me to carry in my shirt pocket.

Caleb saw.

That jie-jie was carrying something must be something I’d want too.

That she insisted Daddee carry it must be something I’d want too.

That is was also shiny must be something I’d want too…

“I WAAANT!”

This is where Hot Mummee’s complaints about my being biased may be justified. I didn’t want him to have one now because he’d just woken up. He hadn’t had anything to drink yet (water) let alone his morning milk- to have candy as “breakfast” or at least the first thing to eat isn’t quite an activity or habit I’d like to instil in the kids.

So what did Daddee say to discourage him?

Infront of Caitlin, I said to Caleb: “It’s medicine..”

Yikes.

She’d never questioned me at all or smirked at me. But I think I had done a bad thing. I could have said he could have one after his milk and insisted jie-jie shared one with him. But I didn’t. I could have simply said “Later” too, but I didn’t.

So now, Caitlin has learned a “skill” that I didn’t want her to know yet. She may well start applying this to other areas to fool us too, with the topic or severity growing as she does.

Oops.

Will standard 1 also have gym class? (Like she has now in preschool)

What about when you were in standard 2, 3, 6, Daddee?

Gym, computer class, and the short swimming lesson, are weekly lessons that she looks forward to in school now, that I know of. I just hope that when she starts the Chinese vernacular school next year at a proper primary school level, that she will remain as enthused about school as she is now.

Probably because she is doing alright in her schooling and the social side of it. It’s no surprise that schooling will only be fun or at least tolerable when these main things are going well for kids, at any age.

Personally I have been through Chinese primary schooling. It wasn’t easy in that “capital punishment” was enforced, particularly when I wasn’t such a good kid to begin with But I hear that it has since gotten tougher- that the workload has increased, and also that kids are better “protected” by their parents.

On the latter, in my day we were kinda on our own. If you were caned, you were caned for the right reasons. These days, I hear about parents turning up in schools protesting about “abuses” from their kids’ disciplinary actions. My view? These kids will learn that they can get away with more things now, ‘cos the school “fears” disciplining them. And where there are naughty kids, there will also be bullies. By boys and girls.

And on the former, I also hear of stories where kids can’t even complete their homework by bedtime…

I worry about these negative effects that may deter my kids from wanting to go to school to learn and socialise; especially when my kids seem to exhibit traits of strong-headed-ness. On the one hand they may be immune from bullies, and be popular instead, but of course these have to be from the right reasons….

It is as parents that we ensure they are. And for them to have something to look forward to all the time, at home and at school.

That means I gotta think of something for them to do this weekend!

And Daddee has an iPhone.

You know the rest of the story.

So tonight Caitlin had a “brilliant” idea: “Daddee, why don’t you buy another iPhone, so that di-di and I don’t need to share, and we still get to play games?”

Whilst not quite a bad idea for a compromise / solution to an ongoing toddler-problem, it is of course not really feasible.

Lately most of my interaction with them have been to behave: to learn to share, “DON’T SNATCH!”, the concept of taking turns, and even empathy.

They argue, verbally fight, snatch from each other, the older jie-jie going “HMMPPFF” arms-folded, and lately tug-of-war over the object of desire.

As parents of more-than-1-kid would know, the younger one really only has the older one to look up to, and so when the older one misbehaves, the younger picks it up as possible acceptable behaviour. So most times I’d end up telling Caitlin off, which only makes her resent her di-di more.

So, I also need to get them to learn to treasure each other as siblings. One of the poignant things I’ve told Caitlin is that once mummee and daddee are gone, they are really only going to have each other as “family”. A bit harsh and many even a tad premature, but I think she got it.

So, while I do let Caitlin, who rides in the front with me when I send them over to school and my inlaws’, play with my iPhone during the car journeys, I do also have to make sure Caleb gets his share of time on the iDevice too. This is usually at home when I can watch that he doesn’t actually starts wiping out my contacts or calendar of appointments!

Of course, there’s also the Hot Mummee aspect, where she’s already laid down the law that there is to be no iPhone playing at all except on weekends- a whole new can of worms altogether!

Chief among the things that Teacher Rachel told me was that Caitlin is among the popular kids in her only-15-student class.

It’s not surprising really. Caitlin makes friends very easily. She approaches humans her height, greets them with her smile/grin, engages them in what they may be up to. She does also almost follow them around, which I have seen kinda freaks the new-stranger kids out. But as with kids her age (at least last year anyway), they talk to each other and go from there (becoming friends). One time we were out and she was already galavanting with these stranger-kids, and when I told her that we had to leave, she shouted “BYE FRIEND!” Obviously didn’t know their names!

Teacher Rachel, whom have had Caitlin in her class since 2009, has kinda watched her grow. She’s also shared with me that Caitlin likes to have friends, likes to be around people, does not like to be alone.

Therefore it is no surprise that Caitlin likes going to school. Her report card from yesterday showed that she had only missed one day in the total of 96 days so far this year.

The downside, however (I won’t say is typical but not surprising to me) is that she cannot be shamed or be put on the spot.

Because she is (or has to be) popular, she finds it very difficult when she is reprimanded when she is at fault- either forgetting her homework, doing the wrong thing, etc. Teacher Rachel also said that Caitlin is (therefore?) somewhat competitive. There is a particular girl that Caitlin is quite friendly with, with whom lately I hear stories about how they are competing. Whatever the friend is doing or has achieved, Caitlin seems to need to be one better.

… Sounds like she has obviously inherited these traits from Hot Mummee! But jokes aside, looks like I have my guiding-work cut out: To guide her on the positive side of being popular and competitive, but coach her on the negative aspects of these, such as negative influence / peer pressure, what “healthy competition” means, etc…..

It’s not because she is my daughter, my own offspring. But this trait does make me rather secretly proud of her; that my own kid has this trait that I don’t think I had- have even, as an adult.

Already from the very early days of starting school she has exhibited a sense of steadiness by marching off to a duty expected of her. I am not talking about expectations of a child, I am talking about going off to face or attend to something unfamiliar.

From day one till now, she is my daughter in the car on the way to school. Upon reaching the school, she switches into- I might even call it- a “professional” mode. All serious and “business-like”. I always get out the car with her too, get her bag from the boot, and help her put it on on her side of the car. We’d then hug, where I’d say something like have a good day; see you tonite, etc. She’d be in her mode already: “Bye Daddee..” and turn to walk off towards the doors of the school, away from me, pony tail swinging side to side, without any need to look back toward me.

Personal time is over, time for the other face- the business face.

So far that’s been true. From the first day at school, first day at her extra curricular classes, her home tuition, going up to the waitress or distant relative asking for something. Okay maybe not so much those latter parts, but she does still go ahead majority of the time as we insist she does, when she is the one with a need (greeting her elders voluntarily, is another matter- of courtesy and manners

I am writing this as I wait for her to finish her art class; an extra-curricular activity which she enjoys. I did the same upon reaching the venue. “Bye Daddee” and off she went, going about getting things started (looking for her pad, getting and laying out old newspapers on the table).

I like it. It somewhat shows she is not needy, she knows (hopefully) that there is a difference between play and work, a time to be serious and a time to not be; at least in public in these contexts. I don’t think she is embarrassed to be seen hugging me (to then cut it short), but the above.

Wait till she is reaching her teens, I hear you say. Yes I know

I can’t say professionally I am of that “calibre”. I hope when her time(s) comes she will not be as wobbly-kneed as I sometimes still am when I’m about to meet some important people, for work or social

Caitlin then told me that she “came first today because I got the most stars.”

Apparently her school or class has this reward “system” where the “good” kids are given stars for various achievements. I’ve heard her say this a few times before; only yesterday she said she got a star for best (hand) writing. Stars could also be awarded for, presumably, best behaved, etc. She further offered that the girls were the ones ahead, “the boys are all at the back..” !

So tonight she tells me that she’s got the most stars in her class. Naturally I was quietly very proud of my little princess

After congratulating her and finishing up dinner, we went to chill for a bit in the living room. We talked about how her friend (whom she mentions quite often) came second; according to her.

I felt compelled to tell her or teach her some facts of life.

I told her that there may be a chance that someone else, possibly her friend; seeing as it looks like she wasn’t far behind Caitlin, may “overtake” her, that she may end up not having the most stars in her class anymore.

Obviously still basking in this glory, she didn’t seem to quite grasp what I was trying to tell her. “Why?”

“I’m just saying that it may happen that one day someone else may have more stars than you, and that you should be prepared if that happens..”

“What’s ‘prepared’?”

“Be ready for it; that you should be ready for if someone has more stars than you one day.. That you won’t be the first anymore..”

She thought about it for a while. “Why?”

We were in the food court; there was/is a small corner near its entrance that has a play mat – you know those jigsaw foam thingies that assemble into a mat. Caitlin was already eyeing that when we entered, insisting to go play there even though there really isn’t anything there to play with- maybe only a small table and chair(s).

During dinner I had noted a couple of boys, very likely brothers, walking in towards their table, where their mum was already seated when we arrived. Presumably the boys had finished their meals and went out wandering whilst mum was still chowing down her meal. I noted their entrance because one of the boys was kicking his sneakers on the floor while he walked, making loud squeeks along the way….. brat.

It was after Caitlin and I had finished our dinner, and whilst our helper was still feeding Caleb, that Caitlin insisted that we moved over to the playmat. Okay what the heck, I thought.

So she was on the mat, Rather dirty one at that, playing for the sake of playing on a new someone-else’s-as-long-as-it’s-not-mine mat. The brats came over. One of them nonchalantly lay on the floor mat, not that far from Caitlin. Then the other lay down too. Caitlin didn’t think anything of it, continuing to reach for stray pieces to assemble on the floor. The younger brother grabbed some of the stray jigsaw squares pieces threw up in the air, probably hoping that it’d land on my daughter, and probably would continue throwing each time getting closer, just to get some kinda reaction from someone.

I knew this was going to be bad news. “Put your shoes on darling, we are going”. Not very reluctantly, Caitlin started getting her shoes on. It wasn’t really a fun place- these weren’t fun toys anyway; not because of these brats.

The younger brother, still lying on the ground / mat, started kicking the furniture; kicking and kicking that it started edging and pushing into Caitlin. Caitlin looked at me. She had a WTF look on her face- if 5 year olds can muster a WTF gesture that would be it.

I grunted at him. But- yup, you guessed it, he didn’t care. Like I wasn’t there, like it’s all fun and games still.

What he did next really took the cake. Earlier he had come over with a mouthful of ice, from his cup from the table where his mum was. Here, he took out pieces of ice from his mouth, and threw them across the court towards the far wall. If you were seated in that area you wouldn’t have missed it- the action of someone throwing something would easily catch your peripheral vision, if the smashing sound of the ice didn’t.

Repeatedly.

I saw this, and looked over to his mum. She didn’t care. I am sure she saw. I couldn’t believe it.

Another smash. I looked over to the mum again. She saw me. I looked over to her kids, and back to her, and shook my head. She looked away, arrogantly.

Everyone has their styles. Some hold their groins scurrying and yelling “I gotta go I GOTTA GO” while others do so subtly, yet while others (still) don’t tell you AT ALL that they have done it.

As far as a number 1 goes, Caleb won’t tell you. At all. Until you carry him and feel the wet diaper on your forearm, or when you discover the puddle of pee on the floor, while he is still running around being his 2year old self discovering and/or copying what his older sister does.

For his number 2′s however, is something I haven’t seen “done” before.

I understand everyone needs their privacy, whether it’s cos the poop is gonna stink, or that it’s simply because it’s the action of pooping. But for a 2 year old, what’s “privacy”? So it is with a lot of laughter of adorableness when we hear about, and then get to see, how my boy does it.

In private.

When you kinda suddenly discover him missing, you start to wonder whether he’s okay- but more often than not it’s because he has run to some corner of the room/house; preferably behind something, and pushing. It doesn’t matter if the pusher is 2 or 20 years old, I believe all humans push the same way. It becomes a lot more “funny” when it’s on a 2 year old boy. The same slight-squirm, the same red-face. Only standing up, hiding in some corner.

When we discover him “midway” he is somewhat apprehensive, don’t-come-any-closer kinda gesture. Dunno why. Perhaps at (only?) 2 he is starting to feel shame and embarrassment already. This idea is emphasised when I tease him (yes this Daddee teases his kids)- at any “usual” moment I’d look at him and say “Ngg ngg? Ngg ngg??” (the local baby talk for pooping; I think you can imagine how that term came about!) where he’d quite vehemently declare “Mai! MAI!” (which till today we are wondering whether he is trying to speak Hokkien dialect when most of what he hears is Cantonese where “no” is “moi”, not the Hokkien “mai”) as if the act of it is shameful.

Not that we make fun of him, maybe he is starting to develop his own self awareness and image (self respect?)

For now, I will still laugh at him. It’s okay if he develops a complex surrounding pooping. Having a complex surrounding pooping is okay compared to “performance anxiety” surrounding peeing, at the men’s room urinal.

Heh.

Between my two kids, the one who seems to show more compassion is, surprisingly, my son.

Maybe because Caitlin has somewhat been spoiled being the centre of attention for the first 3 years of her life. Maybe she unconsciously resents the now-diverted attention to her younger brother. Maybe she just needs some coaching on how to be an older sibling- we certainly remind her how to be, all the time.

She bullies him, teases him, taunts him. She pushes him, on the pretext of getting him to move. These are not evil intentions, it’s just her playfulness overwhelms her supposed characteristic of being the carer as the older sibling. At 3+ years older than him, she is obviously more advanced than him, and therefore he mimics almost everything he sees her doing.

Yet he still adores his jie-jie.

Upon waking, after seeing me and Mummee, he asks for his jie-jie. Caitlin doesn’t ask for him when she wakes. He quite willingly goes over to hug her when we suggest so.

I was told of this story only this week: Caitlin was away in school. Grandma had some raisins or similar goodies for Caleb. One for Caleb, and one for Caitlin; where Grandma told Caleb that this was reserved for his older sister.

The boy held on to it as much as he physically could- as in not wanting to put it down. As much as he liked this goodie, he was saving it for his sister. When the time came to pick her from school (or when she arrived home) he rushed to offer it to her. “JIE-JIE, nah!” and sticks it out towards her.

Yes he does also wear some of his jie-jie’s hand-me-downs, even those in pink. Okay only in private, like pj’s.